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csykora · 3 years

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hi! i'm sorry to bother you, i was wondering if you could rec a few books on the russian 5 / soviet hockey in general? language does not matter, english or russian is fine (pref. english so i can throw them at friends but either work). your posts are the best thing on this site.

Thank you, that’s a great question! I go back to first-person accounts for stories about the players themselves and use a lot of non-book materials for facts like tournaments and statistics, so most of the these will be autobiographies, but there are a couple more general books too.

Please let me know which if any of them you read and what you and your friends think!

I'd recommend anybody start with Igor Larionov’s 1990 book, “Larionov” (originally written in English, but I believe also available in Russian).

It’s a fast read (150 pages). You can dive in, spend an hour with your new best friend Igor in the bathroom at a party listening to him spilling his feelings and relationship drama, and get up to speed on what/who you need to know.

Igor at that age is funny, insecure, over the top, and telling (sometimes on purpose, sometimes not) about his pain. There are bits that might make you want to hold up a finger and ask if he’s sure a conversation went down like that or if maybe his friends remember some things differently--those are some of the bits that made me look for more books.

He writes more on the psychological weight of his experiences, but does discuss some of the physical abuses (more of that is in Fetisov’s book, which I’ll get to below.) It’s one of the most intimate portraits of Viktor Tikhonov—Larionov admits to taking notes on his coach just like his coach did on him. In that sense, it is radically different than the books and articles I’ve read by North Americans.

(Note that he talks about disordered eating, from the perspective of someone who at that time believed this was positive. The passages where he describes his own and his teammates’ diets can be difficult to read. Consider reading Alyonka Larionova’s essay in the Athletic after; it’s not an easy read either, but I found it reminded me there’s the possibility of change and healng even for older people from generational trauma.)

Then try either:

Home Game, Ken Dryden, 1989 (English), the chapter “No Final Victories”

A lot of Canadian men have read Ken Dryden books and thought, ’if I’m looking down anyway, why not navel-gaze about the meaning of life and measure my dick?’ This is, I think, not his fault. He’s writing from a very Canadian perspective, but he’s quite good at writing about that perspective and its gaps.

In this chapter he talks about what Canadian players or the public thought they knew about the Soviets between the 70s and ’89. It lays out a thorough, engaging play-by-play of how Larionov, Fetisov, and others worked toward leaving, and is a nice balance for the raw Igor experience.

This is one of the most popular all-time hockey books, so it’s worth looking for it in your library if you want to just read that chapter.

The Russian Five, Keith Gave, 2018, about 300 pages

I like the heart behind this book. There’s good information in it. Keith Gave wrote short, quick, newspaper and radio sports-news for 15 years—he has a deep knowledge of the Red Wings not just on the ice but as an organization, a very interesting personal adventure story, and a sort of eagerness to understand and empathize with the Russian players.

It’s his first time doing historical research or writing a book, so I do think he has trouble telling the things you need to know in the order you need to know them in order to care about them, if you don’t already have a good sense of the timeline.

Hard to find but keep an eye out for:

The Red Machine, Lawrence Martin, 1990

A much longer discussion of Soviet hockey focused on the national team from the early twentieth century to 1989. Has more context, vignettes, and details on the backstory of the ’70s/early 80s team and life at the Soviet training compound than many other books in English.

It’s widely cited by other books but it’s out of print and a bit rare—I think I might have just bought the only copy that was up for sale this year, so I’ll post about it in more detail when I can!

Russian options:

Овертайм, Slava Fetisov, 1998, reprinted in 2016 (Russian), about 400 pages

This is where the really rough details are. Fetisov writes about his childhood, life in CSKA, and leaving. He mostly talks about his own life, rather than saying much about other players, but includes lots of little details about daily life and how it was intertwined with his friends. He has time to get a lot more detailed about the physical strain of training than Larionov’s book, including injuries, players who died in training, the deaths of his brother and injury of Konstantiov in car accidents, and the corporal punishments and other violence, including the time he alleges Tikhonov arranged to have him tortured by police.

I think his writing is very evocative and enjoyable to read, so that helps, at least.

(It’s a bit hard to find, but if you have access to a Russian library or second-hand store, keep an eye out. It was re-released as part of a series in 2016, which is after he talked with Alexei Kasatonov and became official BFFs again, so I don’t know if the text was updated at that point.)

Tretiak: the Legend, Vladislav Tretiak, 1987 (originally written in Russian, but widely available in English!)

This one’s very interesting to think about the psychology/culture of Soviet players. Tretiak writes heartbreakingly about his own personal experiences, especially his relationships with older players and his relief at retirement. But there are also a lot of ‘missing’ details that probably reflect how he wrote it before Larionov publicly discredited the system—he only writes quite vague positive things about Coach Tikhonov, which are completely different from how he speaks now.

Хоккей в моем сердце, Boris Mikhailov, reprinted 2016 (Russian)

I will never come up with a book title as good as Boris Mikhailov’s ‘Hockey In My Heart’.

Mikhailov is very witty and sharp. While he doesn’t tend to talk about the details of his conflicts with Tikhonov, he has great little stories about lots of the people in Soviet hockey. He also played and coached in St. Petersburg and smaller regions as well as Moscow, so he has some interesting information on the contrasts.

Viktor Tikhonov: Life in the name of hockey by Tatiana Tikhonova

Sasha Mogilny once commented that the only people who could stand Tikhonov were his wife and his dog, “and I don’t know how they do.” Would you like to read his wife’s book of pictures of him with the dog? Would you like to read about how she thinks Tatiana Mikhailova is a bitch, which immediately makes Mikhailova seem cool as hell? Try this book.

Xрустальные люди/ Crystal People, Stanislav Gridasov

A detailed portrait of the hockey community in Saratov (where the young Boris Mikhailov played before CSKA). Completely different than the rich Moscow system, it seems like a great counterpoint, showing the regional tensions in the Soviet Union. I was just recently tipped off to this, but you can find excerpts of in English in Bruce Berglund’s new 2020 book The Fastest Game in the World: Hockey and the Globalization of Sports, which itself looks pretty good.

#I'm...trying to talk my friend into a book podcast #I have a couple more I haven't had a chance to read even an excerpt from but look promising; I'll update

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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Ginger Snap, Chapter 6

A/N Well, here it is. The last chapter of Ginger Snap. As an unplanned fic inspired by a vanity license plate, I’m happy with how it turned out. There will be a short epilogue posted in the next week or so. In the meantime, thank you so much for coming on this unexpected ride with me! This chapter’s themed title is Fire in the Belly.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

The next five months were some of the most difficult of my life.

After our talk, Frank and I agreed that it would be best that we parted ways. The Southside flat was close to the university, plus I’d never truly felt at home there, so it made sense for him to keep it.�� Fortunately, we’d never combined our savings and I still had money tucked away from my time as a medical resident in Boston.

Geillis wanted me to move into her sprawling Murrayfield home, at least temporarily, but I knew that I needed a place of my own. To stand on my own two feet, as it were. Which was how I found myself moving my few belongings into a modest Morningside walk-up as the rest of Edinburgh celebrated Hogmanay with fireworks and drunken revelry.

I scheduled the written component of my medical licensing exam for February. This was likely foolhardy, but I’d already wasted enough time. As a result, almost every waking hour was dedicated to studying. The flat remained an empty box whose naked beige walls bore witness to my rudimentary existence.

Geillis called regularly, reminding me to eat and to occasionally step outside for a breath of fresh air. Returning up the high street from one of our weekly coffee dates, a bright flash in a shop window caught my eye.

I stopped and stared as the afternoon sun lit the vase like a shard of stained glass. It was a profound shade of blue: the colour of a field of indigo, of the night sky in a Byzantine icon, of Jamie’s eyes when he laughed. It sat on my windowsill, filled with the season’s first daffodils, as I pored over practice exams.

***

“Geillis, I passed! I fucking passed!” An elderly woman seated across from me on the bus muttered under her breath about vulgar Sassenachs, but I was too elated to care.

“Of course ye did, ye brilliant disaster. Now I can brag tae the neighbours I have my own personal physician.”

“Not so fast, Duncan. I still need to pass the clinical exam, and that’s no small thing.” My gut twisted just thinking about it, but unlike the written exam, there was little I could do to prepare. Either I knew how to perform as a doctor or I did not. The long months since I’d last treated a patient loomed like a large shadow over that question.

“Och, yer bum’s oot the window Claire,” my friend dismissed blithely. “Ye’re gonna do great. When do ye head down tae yer homeland, then?”

“May first.” The practical examination took place in Manchester and needed to be scheduled three months in advance.

“Sounds like ye’ve got some time on yer hands. Whate’er are ye going tae do with yerself?” Geillis asked in a singsong voice.

Fortunately for me, spring was Edinburgh’s most pleasant season. Its many gardens and laneways erupted in carpets of buds and blooms. The air smelled fresh and green, like biting into a tart apple. I took long walks and fell in love with the city I now called home. There were secondhand bookstores to explore and a weekly craft market where I gradually amassed an assortment of items that made my flat feel like a home. With each passing day, my existence felt more and more like a life; one I defined for myself.

I also started to explore my options for employment, hoping for a job offer from one of the city’s hospitals that was conditional upon my successful completion of the licensing process. It was to that end that I found myself walking down the corridor of The Royal Edinburgh hospital after what I hoped had been a rather successful interview with the deputy director of surgery.

“Claire?”

I recognized her voice immediately. Before turning around I closed my eyes and sent out a fervent appeal to the universe.

“Jenny, hi. How are you?”

She looked just the same, her straight black hair such a contrast to her brother. Next to her stood a man, but not the man I had conjured the moment I heard her voice. I was unclear whether that meant my prayer had been answered or not. Seeing my gaze stray, Jenny jumped to introductions.

“This is my husband, Ian. We’re here fer treatment on his leg.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Jes a fitting fer a new prosthetic. Jenny keeps beatin’ me o’er the head with the old one, ye see.” I laughed, instantly liking his easy-going manner, so in contrast with Jenny’s intensity.

“Ye must be the Claire I hear sae much about,” he went on, and I wondered what had been said about me in the Fraser household.

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

Ian smiled warmly. “Only good things, I promise ye.”

“What brings ye tae the hospital, Claire?” Jenny interjected.

I explained how I was in the process of qualifying to practice medicine in Scotland, provided I could pass my exams. Jenny and Ian were both delighted, congratulating me as though I’d already accomplished my goal. As we spoke about Wee Jamie’s latest exploits and the ongoing growth of Ginger Snap, I couldn’t help notice that Jenny was staring at my hands. At my left hand in particular. Finally, I couldn’t resist temptation any longer.

“And, how is Jamie doing?” I tried to sound casual, but I was certain my faltering voice betrayed me.

“Very well,” Jenny replied. “Busy, as ye can imagine, but he thrives on chaos.”

I nodded, trying to be satisfied with the news that he was well. It was the most I could hope for, really. Jenny eyed me shrewdly before continuing.

“He’s a good man, my brother. Any lass would be verra lucky tae have him. I’d like tae see him settled, but he refuses tae be rushed. Says the right woman is worth the wait.” She paused before adding, “I reckon ye ken wha’ he means.”

“Yes,” I breathed. “I know exactly what he means.”

***

I took the overnight train from Edinburgh to Manchester. It meant I was likely to arrive at the testing centre deprived of sleep, but I rationalized that most of my residency could be characterized as one long evaluation under similar conditions, and I hadn’t killed anyone yet. Still, as the velvety darkness slipped by outside my window, studded by the lights of passing farms, my doubts got the better of me.

I texted Geillis, looking for moral support. For once she didn’t reply immediately. There was one other name on my laughably short list of contacts. I deliberated for all of a minute, but the late hour and creeping panic made me impulsive.

Hello.

Best to start with something innocuous, rather than the slightly more revealing “I miss you. I think about you every day.” A reply bubble appeared immediately after I hit send. At least I hadn’t woken him up. A small tempest stirred in my gut.

Arsonist. Hello. How are you?

I tried to picture him. Was he at home? Working late? Or, in a scenario that played out far too often in my mind, on a date?

I’m alright. Well, to be honest, I feel like I’m going to puke and cry. Not necessarily in that order.

Och, lass. Do you need me to come over?

Damn it, this man. I had done nothing to deserve his unswerving loyalty but mislead him and then disappear for months on end. And yet here he was, willing to come to my aid on the flimsy pretext of a late night text. Guilt and tenderness warred for possession of my heart.

That may prove a bit difficult, Jamie. I’m on a train to England.

There was a long pause, and then a two letter reply.

Oh.

I realized at once that he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion: that I had left Edinburgh for good. I rushed to correct the error.

I’m taking the second stage of my examination to practice as a NHS doctor tomorrow. It’s all hands-on situations, and the licensing facility is in Manchester.

Arsonist, that’s wonderful news! I’m so proud of you.

I blushed, then leaned my heated cheek against the chilled pane of glass. It had been a rash impulse, but this conversation was exactly what I needed. I wasn’t alone in this. Geillis and Jamie were in my corner.

What has your stomach in a twist, then?

What if I’ve forgotten what to do?! It’s been almost a year since I’ve so much as used a stethoscope, Jamie. The exam is eighteen real-life situations and you’re given eight minutes to respond to each one. Not a second longer. I’m just... what if I fail?

And there it was. The kernel of fear that lived at the heart of everything I did. What if I failed? What if my best wasn’t good enough?

Claire, listen to me. You’re a doctor, just as I am a chef. It wouldn’t matter if I had not set foot in a kitchen in ten years, I would still remember how to cook, and I know that it’s the same for you. I believe it with everything in me.

On some level, I knew that he was right. But it still comforted me tremendously to hear it from someone I trusted.

Alright. That helps. I should let you get to bed. Thank you for talking me off my ledge, Jamie.

Anytime, Arsonist.

As I got ready sign off, another text bubble appeared.

Oh, and Claire? Don’t burn down their wee laboratory, okay? ;-)

I laughed out loud, muting my phone and reclining my seat. Outside, the stars shone brightly, tiny fires in the firmament to guide me on my way.

***

It was a lovely late spring day, and the retractable doors to the fire station were open to the warm breeze. I could hear Angus’ voice as he led a cooking demonstration for a group of young women; a bridal shower by the look of their ridiculous costumes.

“Mind the coriander, lass. Tis a verra powerful aphrodisiac, ken? I willna be held responsible if ye canna resist my considerable charms after ye eat yon soup.”

There was an outburst of giggles as I rounded the corner and entered the reception area. Jenny was on the phone. She halted mid-sentence when she saw me walk in. I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans, trying to stay calm.

“He’s in the storeroom, in the back,” Jenny prompted before I could even offer a greeting. I smiled gratefully, relieved I didn’t have to make small talk. I had only so much courage stored in reserve, and I didn’t want to use it all up before reaching my destination.

The storeroom was long and narrow, lit by a single naked bulb and girded with shelves. Jamie stood with his broad back to the door, his curls absorbing the light like amber. He had a clipboard in one hand, performing some kind of inventory.

“Jes how many lentils dae ye reckon we need, Janet? There’s nine cans of them here already, and ye have us ordering ten more.”

I’d almost forgotten how much I loved his voice, the undulating grit and silk of it. I had to remaster the art of speech before I could reply.

“It’s not Jenny. It’s me. Claire.”

He froze, and if it weren’t for the sudden rapid flow of his breath I would have assumed he hadn’t heard me. My nerves got the better of me and I blurted out, “I like lentils. You should listen to your sister.”

“Claire.” More sigh than word. He slowly turned. It was when our eyes met that I knew nothing had changed for him. It was still there, after all these months. That look that told me I was the map to his journey, the focus to his vision, the reason to his why.

Hopefully he could read that same certainty on my face.

“I passed my exams,” I began. “I’m a doctor again.”

“Ye never stopped bein’ a doctor. This jus’ makes it official.”

“I’m still a disaster in the kitchen,” I continued. “Last week I ruined two saucepans.”

“Tha’s only a tragedy if ye dinna have someone willin’ tae cook fer ye,” he replied with a strange squinting motion I understood was meant to be a wink.

“I’m still learning who I am. How to be true to the person on the inside,” I confessed. This is what had kept me away for so long, worried that I would escape from Frank’s orbit just to be caught up in another. Jamie never once expected my submission, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t offer it out of habit.

“I’ll let ye in on a secret. Sae is everyone else,” he replied.

Without realizing it, we’d both been moving until we were crowded together amongst the dried herbs and canned goods. My hand rested against the solid metronome of his heart. Just one more confession to go.

“I burn for you in a way I’ve never burned for anything before.”

There. It was said. A thousand wings of rapture beat against the cage of my ribs, clamoring to break free. Jamie carefully pushed a loose curl behind my ear before cupping my jaw.

“Wee arsonist. Come, set my life on fire.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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noctisfishing · 3 years

Text

The Last One Wins | 01

01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Rated: M

Summary: The Digidestined have grown into adults and are ready to embark on family life. Matt wonders if he and Sora are going to be the last ones to have a kid.

Between him and Tai, he wants to make sure that it happens that way.

Pairings: Sorato, minor Kenyako; Takari friendship shenanigans

Tags: Humor, some Romance and Fluff

Notes: The timeframe is Post-Kizuna, Pre-02 Epilogue. Born ahaha from a silly Discord conversation so please accept this silly little story.

M rating is for at least one light romance scene in later chapters. There will also be a scene with minor Kizuna spoilers along the way.

Shoutout to @leo112358 @blondeandconfused & @sakurarebin .. This conversation happened last December so sorry this took so long :3 <3

You can also find this and other updates on AO3 and FFN.

Chapter 1: The Bet

For once, all that Matt wanted was a quiet evening.

It was what he casually explained to Tai over the phone when he called to ask what Matt was up to. Sora was visiting her mother to prepare for another ikebana exhibition, so he had planned to relax on his own until she arrived home.

He didn’t expect to have to make more for dinner than for two, given that Taichi invited himself over. Once Taichi made his way over, Matt sent a text to TK with the intention of venting, only to receive this reply.

"Kari’s been wanting to see him. We’ll stop by.”

Before Matt knew it, the seats at his dinner table were full with even Davis, Yolei, and Ken somehow tagging along from his younger brother’s invitation. Kari brought an extra dish and dessert, most likely out of sympathy, but Matt knew the situation couldn’t have been helped, and Sora wouldn’t have minded the unexpected guests regardless.

“You know you’ll miss me by the time you’re up in space,” Tai said while Matt cooked over the stove. “Are you nervous?”

“A little, to be honest,” Matt replied. After completing his master’s degree in aerospace engineering, he was selected for the JAXA astronaut training program, which had also been around the time he asked for Sora’s hand in marriage. He had never been happier the moment she said yes. They were married a year into his training, and fast forward another year to the present where he was on the verge of becoming a certified astronaut.

Excited as he was, he still had worries and doubts that he didn’t want to delve deeper to Tai, so he opened the conversation to Tai’s current job in international relations, which Tai had no problem rambling about as long as Matt continued to cook.

By the time they served dinner, the younger Digidestined took the reins of the conversation at the table. Yolei chatted happily about starting a family with Ken smiling warmly at her side.

Naturally, the conversation steered into the topic of children. Kari, Davis, and TK were also already married to their own significant others by then, and they all began an open discussion about how many children they wanted.

“Ken and I were talking about it and I’d love to have a big family,” Yolei said at one point. “I think you'd make a great dad, Ken!”

“That’s exciting!” said Kari, clapping her hands together. “I can’t wait to see mini Yolei’s and mini Ken’s running around!”

“It’ll be something, wouldn’t it?” Ken said, sharing a smile with Yolei. “Having the first child out of all of us - Well, unless…”

“It’s possible,” Matt interjected, knowing that Ken was about to refer to him and Sora. He sensed a few pairs of eyes shifting toward him. TK was about to open his mouth when Davis began to speak.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can’t take everyone out of the running so fast, Ken!” Davis said. “Your child won’t be the first - not if I have anything to say about it.”

TK laughed. “You're really going to make this a competition?”

“Butt out, TP. This is between me and Ken.”

"He goes by ‘Tee-Kay’, and you're an idiot to think you'd have the first child!"

"Wanna say that again, 'maestro'?"

“You’re bonkers if you really believe that!” Yolei added.

Matt had been used to the back and forth banter between the younger Digidestined by now, but he never thought the competitive behavior would fall on a subject like this. He looked over to Tai who was just as surprised as he was.

As the conversation went on, Kari whispered to Matt that she would try to silence them with dessert. Matt watched TK follow her into the kitchen, and then return with a pie in his hands along with him and Kari giggling between each other.

The pie ended up being a good distraction, and Kari began to grill her brother on when he was going to visit home again. Matt sat and listened along with everyone else, but he could only feel relieved knowing that he didn’t have to answer the question he knew that Ken was about to ask him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Man, they were at each other’s throats,” said Tai after Matt walked Yolei, Ken, and Davis out of his house.

“No kidding,” Matt replied. “It’s hard to believe that the younger ones are talking about kids.”

“I think Davis is going to beat Ken,” Kari added, and Tai and Matt turned to stare at her.

“You think so?” Tai asked.

“Yup. His girl can be just as fiery as he can be. They’ll have the first kid.”

“No, no.” TK shook his head. “I’m all for Ken and Yolei being the first ones.”

Kari crossed her arms. “Hmm. I can’t wait for the 5,000 yen you’ll be giving me when you lose.”

“I think I’ll be the one being 5,000 yen richer-”

Tai laughed. “You guys made a bet?”

Things began to click in Matt’s head.

“So that’s what you two were giggling about earlier.”

“Come on!” said TK. “It makes this whole thing much more fun. You guys wanna join in?”

“Nope,” he said immediately.

“No way,” added Tai.

“Aww, Onii-chan,” they whined in unison.

“Leave me out of this,” said Matt, waving his hand with a sense of finality. “Besides, I’d rather not think about kids right now. In fact, I bet I’d be the one to have a kid last.”

Silence fell, and suddenly, all eyes seemed to be on Matt.

“Are you serious, Matt?” Tai asked. “You and Sora are already married. What else is going to happen next? Don't tell me you haven't been trying for one.”

“I mean… It's not like we haven't, you know…” Matt felt his cheeks warm, feeling as though he was tricked into answering an intimate question he didn’t want to answer, especially not in front of TK. “But we're not trying. You, however!” he added quickly, hoping to push the attention towards Tai. “I wouldn't be surprised if you have one first, since you like to do it like you mean to.”

There was a long pause as Tai stared him down.

“...You're definitely going to have one before I do.”

“I definitely will not.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Matt couldn’t believe what Tai was saying. Did Tai really think that he was going to win this argument? Was Matt going to let him?

“Seriously, Matt," Tai continued. "Sora's practically a mother already.”

“Which is exactly why she doesn't need children yet. She already has to take care of you and me. Why add to the list?”

“That doesn't mean we can't be crossed off. Hey, we've gotta grow up sometime.”

Matt was too focused on staring down Tai to notice that Kari and TK were exchanging mischievous smiles, followed by raising their hands to shake for a second bet - this time, between their own brothers.

#digimon fanfiction #sorato #ishida yamato #matt ishida #takenouchi sora #sora takenouchi #minor kenyako #noctiswriting #rated m #last one wins #sorato fanfiction

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yume-fanfare · 4 years

Text

translation - the whereabouts of the roast beef

this is a translation of one of the four short stories HoneyWorks posted at the beginning of the pandemic! it’s written by Kosaka Mari, you can read it in japanese here. this was translated from this spanish translation by mieltrabajos.

Other stories:

Two people at the school festival

Who is the owner?

Aiming towards the heroine, Suzumi Hiyori!

The whereabouts of the roast beef

By the time Shibasaki Aizou finally finished his work it was already night, and he was longing to get home.

Since he debuted as an idol in the unit LIPxLIP he had had a very tight schedule and, as it was to be expected, it only got worse each day.

“That manager… She gives us way too much work…”

When he got home and turned on the lights, his cat, Kuro, ran under the table from the couch where he had been sitting.

Aizou left the plastic bag he'd been carrying on the table.

“Even this feels like we're in school.”

His partner and him were partly responsible for that day's dance class delay.

He hadn't realized that so much time had passed while he argued about the choreography with Yuujirou. In fact, just remembering his partner's stubborn face, as he wouldn't listen to anyone but himself, made Aizou sick, furrowing his brow.

“I wish he'd listen to other people's opinions sometimes… Hey!”

Kuro leaned over and tried to shove his face inside the bag as Aizou raised his fist while speaking alone. When he noticed, Aizou picked up the cat and placed him on a chair.

“You stay here! This is not for you!”

But even with those words, the cat just licked himself with a mischievous shine in his eyes.

Aizou had no other option but to bring Kuro his food bowl and fill it. That way, the cat started eating next to him.

“Well… what should I do?”

Aizou put his hands on his hips and took the meat out of the plastic bag.

On the way back home I suddenly felt like “Meat… I want to eat meat…” so I went to a 24-hour supermarket and bought some.

He pulled out his cellphone and looked for a recipe online. Once he'd decided what he wanted to cook, he took off his uniform blazer and put on some apron that was lying on a chair.

Two hours later, Aizou had accidentally made roast beef.

“Yes! Perfect!” he cheered and did a victory pose.

“Wait. What am I doing.”

Suddenly recovering his sanity, he leaned over the kitchen table, putting his hands on it.

Why was he roasting beef instead of saving his precious hours of sleep?

Kuro, who was walking around him, sat down and looked up. Aizou looked up too and saw the clock. 2:30 AM.

He had finished, but the tiredness overtook his appetite. He yawned.

“Should I leave it for tomorrow's lunch?” he mumbled in a sigh and grabbed a bento box from a shelf. “Oh, before that.” He pulled out his phone out of the apron's pocket and took a picture of the roast beef.

He sent it to his partner. And, as soon as he did so, the reading receipts showed up. It seemed like he wasn't the only one awake.

He didn't get a reaction or text back, so Yuujirou was probably annoyed too.

Good. I can easily picture his face.

During the dance class he had thrown a ridiculous tantrum after being called “rhythm tone-deaf”.

Aizou packed his food inside a bento box with some rice as a side dish and closed the lid, satisfied.

“Ok, I finished. Now, I'll take a bath and go to sleep.”

He put the lunch on the table and left the room hugging Kuro.

---

Shibasaki Ken walked down the stairs still half-asleep, carrying Kuro. He placed him on the floor and refilled his water and food bowls.

When he opened the fridge, he found it completely empty except for the cream bun he bought the day before and a plastic water bottle. When he pulled them out and put them on the table, he saw an unknown bento box.

“What's this…?”

He unpacked it and lifted the lid to find some tidily placed roast beef with rice. Ken looked at it, admired, and then started laughing.

“Ohh, this is here to be eaten, right~?”

Kuro walked towards him and Ken picked him up. The cat answered with a meow. Ken put him down again and wrapped the lunchbox.

“I’m so lucky!” he exclaimed.

He put it in his bag and thought about the cream buns, which he ended up leaving in the fridge again.

“Thanks for answering!” he told the cat and left the room in a good mood.

---

The next morning, Aizou woke up later than usual. He ran down the stairs as he put on his blazer.

“Oh, before anything else…!”

He went to the kitchen and pulled out a plastic water bottle. He poured some in a glass and drank from it, then moved to the table.

However, the bento box that should have been there had disappeared. No matter how many times he looked for it, it wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Uh, why…?

Instead, the only thing left were the convenience store-brand cream-filled buns.

(There’s only one person who could have done this.)

Aizou grabbed one of the buns, angry.

When he left the living room towards the main door, he didn’t see the shoes that were always there, next to his. Even though he usually left at the very last minute, when the first period was about to start, it seemed like he’d left early today.

(He escaped!)

Aizou dashed towards the living room, grabbed the cream buns and put them in his bag, which he had thrown on the couch before.

He went back to the doorway and put on his shoes, waved Kuro goodbye, as he had come to see him off, and left the house as he yelled: “I’m leaving!”

“I won’t forgive you!”

He jumped on his bike and started pedaling vigorously.

He had worked hard on roasting the beef after coming back from work.

(In any case, I have to get it back!)

Aizou gained momentum, went down the hill and turned the corner at the next intersection.

---

When the morning classes ended, the girls approached Aizou at his desk.

“Hey, Ai-kun, why don't we have lunch together?”

Aizou got up, mashed cream bun in hand, and ran out of the class saying:

“I'm sorry, I have to leave, there's an emergency!”

Yuujirou, who was sitting at his desk drinking chocolate milk, eyed him. “Huh?”

(I wasn't able to get a hold of him this morning because he was flirting!)

As he ran down the hall, the girls screamed: “Oh, Aizou!”

He pushed them away and kept going down the stairs. Then, someone grabs his collar and pulls him aside.

“Hey, Shibasaki, no running in the halls.”

When Aizou turned around, he was met with his homeroom teacher, Akechi.

(While I'm here, my roast beef is being…!)

“Teacher, I'm on a rush!” he said hurriedly and teacher Akechi let go off his clothes.

However, it seemed like he wouldn't be able to leave yet.

“By the way, it seems like Someya and you are the only ones who haven't turned in the club orientation form?”

“Do we have to do this now?”

“You're quite behind the deadline, aren't you?”

Mr. Akechi put his hands in his lab coat's pockets and gave him a look of disapproval.

“Ooh, Aizou is being scolded by the teacher~” some of his female classmates giggled as they passed by.

(Why am I receiving a lecture right when I have to leave?)

Aizou made eye contact, although he was uncomfortable, and tried to make an entrance to escape.

“We don't really want to enroll in any clubs… I mean, we're already idols!”

“Don't run!”

Ignoring Mr Akechi's upset voice, he ran away again.

---

(Where are you….)

As he looked around the second year halls, he heard a girl call out to him.

“Hey!”

It was most likely because there weren't many students around.

“What's the matter, Aizou?”

“What are you looking for?”

(Ugh!)

He involuntarily tensed up and he backed down a couple of steps.

“No… It's just…”

It was hard to look for him with that group of students.

“I'm sorry, I think I made a mistake!” he blurted out and ran away from the scene.

“He's so cute!” the older girls giggled.

He blushed at those words as he ran down the stairs.

(There's so many obstacles in the second year classrooms!)

That way, he couldn't get near the classroom.

(Wait… I don't know which one he's in!)

The realization hit him as he reached the first floor, doubling over and putting his hands on his knees.

“Oh, but I only have to find wherever he eats lunch!” he accidentally said out loud, and a passing boy looked at him confused.

(Maybe at the courtyard?)

Aizou was running again before realizing.

“My roast beef~”

---

When lunchtime came, Ken invited Kotarou and Kodai to the rooftop, and as they sat against the railing, he took the bento box out of his bag.

“You're eating bento today, Shibaken? That's rare to see,” Kodai commented in disbelief while eating his own yakisoba bread.

Usually, Ken just bought some rice balls and bread at the convenience store.

“It was on the table when I woke up this morning.”

“Wow!” Kotarou side-eyed the bento box as he ate his rice balls. “Did you make it yourself?”

“I don't know who made it. Someone who occasionally shows up at home?” when answered with a smile, his friends were glad to see him happy.

“I'm kind of jealous…”

“It's okay, you can eat my leftovers,” he waved his hand and started downing the food.

(Um…)

“Can he cook…?” he asked no one in particular, but then smiled and answered himself I don't think so.

---

“Where could you be...?”

The girl standing next to the vending machine stared at Aizou as he yelled and ran down the halls. Her long hair swung from side to side.

“Shibasaki's little brother...?”

When she asked that Aizou's legs stopped to a halt.

(The girl who brought Kuro!)

Someone I met in my neighborhood once.

I don't know what kind of relationship they have nor I want to know, but she's at least an acquaintance of mine. And it seems she's in the same class as my older brother.

“What's the matter?”

“I'm… looking for someone.”

Holding eye contact with her wasn't easy. He was an idol, but he didn't get along well with women. Plus, if he was seen talking to one, who knows which future rumors might spread.

Usually, he'd just ignore her and keep going, but this was an emergency so he couldn't flee.

“Well, I don't know what it is but… it seems like it's difficult.” Maybe, Aizou thought, the senior girl was trying to sympathize with him.

He finally met her eyes and sighed.

“Maybe they're at the rooftop… Why don't you check there?”

“The rooftop…?”

Aizou lifted his head. The school's rooftop had flowerbeds and benches, and some students had lunch there when the weather was nice.

(There!)

“Thank you, senpai!” He grinned and turned around.

Holding the juice box she'd gotten from the vending machine, she stared at him with wide eyes, a bit surprised about the term he'd used.

---

After dashing up the stairs that led to the rooftop, Aizou flung the door open. The strong breeze moved his blazer.

“My roast beef!” he yelled, and the three people eating at the rooftop turned to look at him.

My brother Ken and his friends.

Then, he saw that the bento box Ken was holding was empty except for a bit of parsley.

“My…! My…!”

Aizou fell to his knees.

(I was too late!)

Kodai turned towards Ken.

“Looks like it was him after all.”

“Huh? Shibaken's got a little brother?” Kotarou looked at both of them while holding a rice ball.

“You didn't know him?” Ken threw an arm around Aizou's shoulders.

“Why don't you make your own lunch instead of stealing other's?” his voice shaking with rage, Aizou slowly got up. “It was my lunch!” He pointed at Ken angrily and left with a sigh.

Ken walked towards his brother, not troubled in the slightest.

“What?!”

With a cheerful tone, Ken handed his brother the empty bento box.

“Delicious.”

He patted Aizou's head softly and walked inside the school building in a good mood.

(What the hell…!)

Holding the lunchbox with only parsley, Aizou teared his hopes into pieces.

At least, he felt like his brother's friends sympathized with him.

---

The next Saturday morning, Aizou did a decided pose.

“All right, let's do it again!” he said as he finally put roast beef inside his lunchbox again. “I could become an expert on this,” he murmured happily, putting the bento inside his backpack.

Since they didn't have class that day, his brother must still be asleep. Or at least there weren't any signs of him going downstairs.

(I won't let the same error happen again!)

Aizou laughed softly and declared: “This time, I'll eat roasted beef! Let's go!”

He petted Kuro's head, who was sitting in his chair, grabbed his backpack and ran towards the door.

That day he had to meet up for some recordings and magazine interviews. After that, he had lessons, so he'd be back home by midnight, as usual.

When he left his house, their manager's car was waiting for him outside, engine running.

---

When they finished their morning work and went back to the office, they took a small lunch break.

Aizou bought a can of coffee from the vending machine on the first floor and hummed as he got onto the elevator.

As he got to the office floor, a staff member congratulated him:

“Aizou-kun, good work!”

“Good work~!” he greeted back with a smile and then laughed and said to himself: “What am I doing?”

“Did this morning's recording go well?”

“Indeed!” he grinned and waved before leaving for the break room.

(The roast beef is waiting for me!)

When he opened the door, he saw that Yuujirou was already having lunch there.

“Good work!” he told him.

He got a tired “good work” in return.

Aizou grabbed a foldable chair and sat down next to him. He glanced at the bento Yuujirou was eating.

“...!!!!????”

He looked at it again.

It was the lunchbox that Aizou had brought.

And it was almost empty.

Yuujirou was making a grimace and his mouth moved with disgust.

However, on the table laid two convenience store rice balls. Probably it was the manager in training who bought them.

(I… had left it on the table!)

He had only left it alone for a second when he took it out of his bag and went to the vending machine to get coffee. Since he had gotten to the office, he'd been glad it wouldn't be like last time.

Aizou banged the table with his hands.

(Noooo!)

“I didn't need the bell peppers.” Yuujirou had pushed them to the side and looked at them with disgust.

“You didn't need any of it! So eat the peppers too!”

“They're bitter, so no.” Yuujirou frowned and turned around.

“Eat them! You already ate it, so at least eat all of it!”

“No way. Why did you put bell peppers in it!?”

“It wasn't for you. Don't be stingy when you're eating someone else's bento!”

Since he was losing the argument, Yuujirou stomped on the floor like a child.

“Roast beef shouldn't be so dry. You overcooked it!”

“Hah?!? What are you talking about. It was perfect!”

(Ugh, today, today's being absolutely the worst!)

“I'll let you know!”

“Haah?! Try me!!”

Right when a physical fight was about to break, the door swung open.

“Hey boys, good work~ … !!!!” Hiyori, their manager in training, dropped her plastic water bottle on the floor. “You’re fighting again!”

Aizou and Yuujirou pointed at each other and said at the same time:

“This guy is the worst!”

#lipxlip #lip x lip #honeyworks #shibasaki aizou #someya yuujirou #shibasaki ken #mar's translations #poor aizou #hworks #hw links

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three-drink-amy · 5 years

Text

Sweet Creature

Posting this early because of my One Quote, One Shot posting on Thursday. Next week will resume the Wednesday weekly post! Thank you so, so much for the response to this fic. I’m not lying when I say it blows my mind!

chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five

Chapter Six

Her puffy eyes didn’t want to open as Mary shook her. She slowly pried one eye open enough to see who was bothering her. Mary’s concerned face was close to hers, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Claire? Are you alright? What happened?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Claire groaned, trying to sit up. Sleeping on the floor had not been her best idea. But at a certain point, she’d cried so much she had no energy to leave. The only option had been laying back down and giving in to the exhaustion. “What time is it?”

“It’s 5:00,” Mary informed her. Her hands fluttered in the air around Claire, never landing on her, but wanting to be helpful. “Is something wrong? Do you need me to call someone?” She grabbed Claire’s phone off the counter. “I can call Jamie.”

Claire’s head snapped towards Mary. “Do not call Jamie. Do you hear me?”

Mary stared at her, pure confusion and concern still clear on her face. “Yes, I hear you. But I need to call someone. You’re not in a good state and you need to go home.”

“No, I need to handle this order,” Claire argued, finally managing to sit up.

“I can handle the order. I’ll call in Beth and she’ll be able to help me if I need it, but I don’t think I will,” Mary assured her. “You’ve taught me well enough over the past five years. I’ll be fine. You, however, need to go home. You’re in no shape to be here right now. So how about I call Joe? Maybe Joe can get you home. Will that work?”

Claire didn’t want to go home. She wanted to be able to work and have that distract her from the gaping hole she felt in her heart. But Mary was right. She wasn’t fit to be working on an order, or anything right now. The look of her would certainly scare away any customers. Perhaps she could just go home and sleep it off. Maybe that’s what would be best. Mary took her phone and called Joe. He apparently agreed to pick her up, and in 20 minutes was ushering her into his car.

He pulled up outside her building. Claire tensed with the fear of seeing Jamie. Living in the same building had made so much sense at one point. But now she was dreading accidentally running into him. “Mary didn’t say what happened,” Joe said, breaking the silence.

Claire turned her eyes away from the building to look at her friend. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe you need to,” he offered. “You know Jamie and I would always be here to listen.”

Claire felt a fresh batch of tears brimming in her eyes as she curled in on herself. “I’m not talking to Jamie about anything.”

Joe watched her for a moment. “Are you saying this had something to do with him?” Claire couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. She simply nodded in reply. “What the hell,” Joe breathed. He met her stare. “Should I go beat him up?”

Claire choked out a laugh. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Did you tell him...about, you know?” he asked delicately.

“No,” she told him, “and thank god I never did.”

“Seriously, Lady Jane,” Joe pressed, “what happened?”

Her tears began to spill over as Claire recounted the events of the night before. By the time she’d gotten to the end, Joe’s face had fallen, looking truly miserable at the thought of what happened between them. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way.”

“You’re taking his side on this? You’re my friend!” Claire yelled.

“No, I’m not taking his side. I’m just trying to help you see a different angle on it. Jamie is your best friend. I know you don’t want to lose that,” Joe explained.

“Well if that’s the way he’s going to act, I don’t need him around anymore. I’ll be fine without him,” Claire grumbled.

“Are you sure? Because Mary said she found you in a pretty rough state.”

“Joe, do you know what it’s like to have the person you trust most say the one thing you never expected him to say? And then not even realize he said it?” She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It fucking hurts. He’s the only one who could actually take credit for my bakery being a success. And then he did.” She wiped a few tears off her face. “For so long he’s said it was just me. That I was the successful one. He took no claim on it, until it would serve him well to claim it. Bastard.”

“So you’re not going to try and talk it out with him?” Joe asked, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Claire replied. “No, I don’t need to see him again. I don’t need his half-assed apologies or lame excuses.”

Joe sighed, nodding his head slowly. “Want me to help you in the building so we can make sure the coast is clear? You know there’s a chance he’s waiting outside your door.”

“Shit,” Claire whispered, “I hadn’t even thought of that.” She glanced over at Joe pleadingly. “Please, will you do that?”

He smiled kindly. “Of course.”

After Joe had gotten her safely inside without any Jamie sightings, Claire threw herself down on her bed. She didn’t even peel back the covers before she passed out again. Emotions could be exhausting. And the combination of devastation and betrayal seemed to be a lethal combination.

Claire woke up to twelve missed calls and twenty texts from Jamie. She rolled her eyes as she locked her phone again. “Leave me alone,” she said, leaving her phone in her bedroom as she walked out to the kitchen. She spent the day dodging calls and ignoring further texts from him. He didn’t seem to take her silence as a message.

That night, she was sitting on her couch, eating some ice cream when there was a knock at her door. Without even getting up, she knew who it would be. She would have had to buzz Joe in if he was coming to check in on her. Claire stayed where she was.

The knock became more insistent. “Sassenach! It’s me!” The confirmation didn’t make her move. If anything, it made her stay in her place. “Please open up. I ken ye’re in there. I stopped by the shop and Mary said ye’ve been home all day. Claire, please let me in. Please talk to me.”

His begging did nothing to sway her. She was set in her decision. If Jamie saw her as a commodity, he wasn’t someone she needed in her life. It would take time to not be heartbroken by it, but it would be better for her overall. He knocked a few more times, accompanied by further pleas. She never moved though. Eventually, he walked away and she was finally left alone.

The next day, though, the barrage of phone calls started anew.

* * *

Jamie sulked at work. Well, really, he sulked everywhere. His mind could focus on nothing but Claire. The worst part of it all was that he knew it was his fault. He’d spent the entire evening after she’d kicked him out beating himself up. The things he’d said had been out of line and wrong, to boot. He hadn’t even meant it. And he certainly hadn’t meant it the way she’d interpreted it.

He thought maybe the next day he’d call her and be able to explain himself. He pictured her dragging him across the coals for his statement before begrudgingly forgiving him. But that wasn’t what happened. She’d shut him out completely. It didn’t matter how he’d tried to get in contact with her, she wouldn’t answer. He couldn’t blame her for being pissed at him. There was just no end in sight.

Jamie decided he should dial back on how often he tried to reach out. It was around that time that Claire picked up a new tactic. She began intermittently answering his calls for a second or two, giving him a breath of hope, before hanging up. Then he couldn’t even leave a voicemail for her to ignore. It was driving him crazy. He wanted the opportunity to apologize and to prove to her that he didn’t mean what he’d said. The chance was never afforded to him though. He was constantly distracted at work and people were starting to notice.

“Jamie, can I ask you something?” John said one day.

“Ye just did,” Jamie replied, walking away from him. His tolerance for chatting had gone way down.

“Hey, hey,” John called, chasing after him. “Come on, it’s me.”

Jamie walked into his office and turned around, looking at John. “What?”

“You just seem...off lately. Is something up?”

Jamie threw himself down in his chair with a grand sigh. “Aye, ye could say that.”

John sat down in a chair across from his desk. “Well, talk to me. What is it?”

Jamie leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his head in his hands. “Claire willna speak to me.”

A burst of laughter made Jamie look up. John saw his miserable expression and quickly stopped laughing. “Oh, I thought that was a joke.” He shook his head. “What do you mean she isn’t talking to you?”

“I mean she’s no’ talking to me. I’ve tried everything. I’ve texted her, called her. I dropped by her place but she willna answer. I went by the bakery and they kept saying she wasna there even if I saw her car in the carpark. I even messaged her on facebook once just to see. Nothing. We live in the same building and I havena seen her in two weeks,” Jamie told him, a broken look about him.

“Why?” John asked, looking confused. “You two are best friends. She comes to our parties and they’re notoriously the worst.”

Jamie nodded, wishing he had a better reason to give John than his own stupidity. “Twas my fault. I was trying to get her to do something for me and I offended her. I didna even realize what I said in the moment. But I canna explain myself or apologize or even try to make up for it. She’s just shut me out.” He shook his head, staring down at his desk. “We’ve been friends for ten years. In all that time, she’s been there. I dinna ken what to do wi’out her at this point.” He breathed out a sad laugh. “And I canna even tell her that.”

John was silent for a long time. “Just hang in there. I know it’s terrible advice, but there’s not much you can do if she doesn’t want contact. Maybe she just needs some space. I’m sure soon enough, she’ll want to talk to you again. It’s been the same ten years for her too. I bet this is just as hard for her.”

Jamie nodded, unsure how to reply. He knew he needed to give her space, it was just too hard. Jamie cleared his throat. “Thanks, John.”

He still wasn’t in better spirits, but he tried to take John’s advice. Each time he grabbed his phone to text Claire, he’d stare at it for a moment before putting it back down. She needed space. His need to apologize could take a backseat.

Jamie wandered into the employee lounge and poured himself a big cup of coffee. He was caught up in his thoughts, totally unaware of the person who came up next to him.

“Hello, Jamie,” she said in her thick French accent.

Jamie looked over and noticed Annalise standing incredibly close to him. That was when he realized he hadn’t thought of her, or really even spoken to her, in the last two weeks since Claire had stopped talking to him. He’d seen her at work, but hadn’t registered anything past that. His thoughts had only been with Claire.

“I noticed you’d seemed a bit down lately,” she continued before he could even reply to her. “You seemed a bit withdrawn. So I asked John what was going on. He said it had something to do with your friend.” She put a strong emphasis on the word friend.

Jamie huffed out a sigh, looking past her out toward where John was standing. He was ready to go punch him for sharing his problems with their coworkers so freely. “Don’t be mad at him. I insisted he tell me,” Annalise told him.

Jamie looked back at her, his brow furrowed. “Really? And why would ye do that?” he asked, taking a couple steps toward the door.

“Because you did not seem like yourself,” she explained with a wave of her hand. Jamie nodded, starting to walk away from her. He stopped as she continued talking. “I thought you needed some cheering up. Perhaps we could get dinner.”

* * *

Claire handed the white envelope to Joe. “Here, I need you to give this to Jamie.”

“And you really can’t just do this yourself?” Joe asked. He’d been trying to subtly and gently suggest she at least think about talking to him. Thus far, she’d been cold to each suggestion. “I mean even if you don’t see him, can’t you just slip the letter under his door?”

“It’s not a letter,” Claire told him.

Joe peeked inside the envelope, shocked at the contents. “You’re really doing this?” Claire nodded. “Are you guys going to be okay if you do this?”

“Jamie and I aren’t okay,” Claire reminded him.

“I didn’t mean you and Jamie. I meant you and your employees. Your business that you’ve worked so hard for,” Joe corrected.

Claire took a deep breath. Joe could see how the strain of the last two weeks had affected her. Circles under her eyes showed her exhaustion. She’d been working her ass off at the bakery, opening and closing every day while also running the damn place. Throwing herself into her work had been the way she’d chosen to ignore Jamie’s lack of presence in her life.

“I talked to my accountants and they think we’ll be fine. We’ve been drumming up a hell of a business lately and already have the interest stirred up in Edinburgh, so they think we’ll make up for it soon enough,” Claire reassured. “But I appreciate your concern. Now please, will you take that up to him?”

Joe nodded, holding the envelope tighter. “You live in the same building. How have you not seen him?”

“I found an exit on the side of the building. It’s not even an emergency exit. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know it’s there. So, I use that now,” Claire explained. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

Joe brought her in for a hug. “Anything for you, Lady Jane.”

He knew it would be hard to be somewhat in the middle of their fight, but when Jamie opened the door to his flat, Joe realized just how miserable a place he was in. The first thing he noticed on Jamie’s face was pain. It must just be a constant expression at this point. His pain turned to shock as he registered Joe standing in front of him. Shock turned to a mixture of happiness and sadness. It all happened in seconds, each emotion so plain on his usually masked face. “Joe, what are ye doing here? Tis good to see ye.”

Joe nodded to him. “Good to see you too, man. Uh, Claire actually sent me. She wanted me to give you something.”

“How is she?” Jamie asked, a desperate note to his voice. “Joe, she won’t talk to me and I know why but I canna take it. We live in the same building and I dinna even see her. I’m losing my mind. But I dinna care about me, I just want to know that she’s alright.”

If only Claire could see the state this man was in. He was pretty sure she would feel differently. The two of them were too stubborn for their own good. “She’s alright. She sent me up here to give you this,” he said, holding out the envelope.

Jamie looked confused as he took it. Confusion morphed into heartbreak as he opened the envelope and saw the check for his original amount sitting inside of it. “No,” he breathed. He looked up at Joe. “No, she canna do this. I dinna want this.” He tried to push it back at Joe. “Take it back, I dinna want it.”

Joe held up his hands, not letting Jamie give it back to him. “Look, this is between you and her. I’m just the courier.”

“What if I just tear it up?” Jamie asked, a wild look about him. “I dinna want this.”

“She thought you might say that. So she told me to tell you to please not do that. It’s yours and she wants you to have it back,” Joe said, trying to ignore the pain on Jamie’s face. Tears were forming in the other man’s eyes.

“I can’t do this, Joe. I can’t take it. I just want to talk to her, to tell her I didna mean any of it. I…” he broke off as tears started to fall down his cheeks. “I miss her so much.”

“I know, Jamie. But tearing up the check isn’t going to get her to talk to you. She’s just going to be more pissed. Just hang in there. Maybe soon she’ll get over it. I don’t know.”

Jamie nodded, tears still streaming down his cheeks. “Thanks, Joe.”

Despite himself, Joe brought Jamie in for a hug, patting him on the back. “It’ll be okay.”

“I’m no’ so sure,” Jamie replied. They broke apart with a nod to each other. Jamie walked back in his flat and closed the door. For a reason he couldn’t name, Joe waited for a minute. He wanted to make sure Jamie was going to be okay. This freeze out between the two of them seemed to be killing both of them. Joe was about to leave when he heard it. The sound of a sob coming from Jamie’s flat.

Next chapter

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #my writing #sweet creature

377 notes · View notes

futuresmashmemes · 4 years

Note

In complete curiosity, can you tell me what your favorite Smash reveal trailer of all time was?

Like, actually, real shit, stuff that’s already happened in this timeline?

Nothing will ever top Smash 4’s reveal for me. I was really into Brawl as a kid, and after Brawl came out a lot of people spread the idea online that it would be the last smash game (hilarious in hindsight, I know). Me, being the dumb kid I was, took that at face value. I also wasn’t really into following leaks at the time. I was also 12, almost 13 when 4 was revealed, keep in mind. I just sort of accepted that smash was done.

I vividly remember when I first saw that reveal trailer. We were in the middle of bumfuck nowhere for my sister’s soccer game. I was sweaty, hungry, and my phone was running out of battery. I managed to convince my mom to let me stay in the car for the rest of the game, where I promptly began charging my phone and went onto YouTube to pull up some music to listen to (knowing me at the time, it probably would’ve been an Evanescence song). And there, at the top of my recommended feed, was that trailer.

It almost didn’t feel real. I was so convinced that Smash was over, I almost thought that the video would’ve been a fake. Some shitty mod or whatever. But I clicked on it anyways, because, y’know, Smash Bros! Boy am I glad I did. Instantly, I was enthralled by the idea of Smash on the go. I didn’t have a 3DS at the time, but I played on my DS like I was getting paid for every second the screen was on. Having a portable smash game was a dream come true! And when they got to the Wii U part of the trailer, I was drawn in by the visual upgrade compared to Brawl. I was a dumb kid who didn’t know anything about graphics watching this trailer in 480p on a shitty Windows phone, and even I could tell how much of a graphics upgrade it was compared to Brawl. I didn’t have a Wii U at the time either, but I was still excited.

The new characters announced were just the icing on the cake. I love Animal Crossing, but I never expected an Animal Crossing rep in smash because I read that Sakurai had previously said that Animal Crossing characters were unsuited for battle. So when that trailer opened up on a shot of the Villager opening the now iconic envelope, my hype levels instantly shot through the roof of the car. Really, I should consider myself lucky that I was watching this trailer in the middle of an empty parking lot in the middle of nowhere and not, say, on the bus ride home from school, because after that point, I was visibly freaking out throughout. I would’ve been perfectly satisfied with just Villager, but then the trailer continued. The videos online right now show these two as separate videos, but I definitely remember watching them as one big trailer.

NEW CHALLENGER APPROACHING!

Oh boy, who could it be? The gang looked up at a cliff to see a boy with distinct spiky hair.

“No. There’s no way it could be him. There’s just no way! I read online that he couldn’t get in, so it’s not him.”

Blip!

“OH MY GOD IT IS HIM HOLY SHIT IT’S MEGA MAN FUCKING MEGA MAN HOLY S H I T!”

It didn’t feel real. It felt like a dream. But I was loving every second of it. And even better, the next video in my recommended feed was the trailer for Wii Fit Trainer. What? Why? Who asked for this? I was dumbfounded, but all for it.

I think that those three characters made for the perfect holy trinity of character reveals. The anticipated first party/character Sakurai previously said no to, the third party, and the character that nobody saw coming. Smash 4’s initial reveal had it all. I probably rewatched that trailer for the rest of the soccer game. I texted all my friends about it, and they were all nearly as excited as I was. I would’ve told my mom and sister all about it when they got back in the car, but I wasn’t supposed to be using data at the time, so if they knew that I had used it to watch a silly reveal trailer over and over again, mom probably would’ve had a heart attack (this was before unlimited data was more standard). But you better believe that I exploded on about it as soon as I figured it was safe to.

Even after all these years (and all of the timelines I’ve looked into), no Smash trailer...no, more like no trailer period has ever gotten close to capturing the pure excitement that I felt when I first saw the Smash 4 trailer, and I doubt that there ever will be one. I’m a jaded adult now, and everything is more exciting through the rose-tinted glass of adolescence. The “Everyone is Here!” trailer for Ultimate came close, though. Smash 4’s development was also something of a turning point for me when I became more active in following the development of new games online. I think it was for a lot of people, I think that a lot of that can be attributed to Brawl’s success (and the Wii as a whole) at capturing a wider demographic of gamers compared to Melee and 64. Smash 4 feels almost laughable to go back and play now, but I can’t deny the impact it had on me.

As far as other individual reveal trailers go, here are my favorites:

Little Mac and Palutena-both for the same reason: THAT ART STYLE. Their trailers also convinced me to play their respective games. Uprising was one of my first 3DS games and Punch Out is the last game I remember renting from Blockbuster.

Greninja-As laughable as this sounds now, getting a new Pokémon rep was really hype for me back then. I was beginning to get into competitive, so seeing the ninja frog that had taken over the competitive scene at the time get into smash was cool, even if I was Team Fennekin. Confirmation that at least Charizard had survived the cut was also really cool.

Robin and Lucina-I didn’t know anything about Fire Emblem at the time, but Robin looked cool and I was digging the 3D anime artstyle from Awakening that the trailer was rendered in. Another trailer that convinced me to buy the game that they were from, and good god now I’m an insufferable Fire Emblem fan good lord I was so innocent back then. “Girl Marth” jokes were rampant amongst my friends. Also, CAPTAIN FALCON!!!

Lucas-Funny story, my sister absolutely despises video games with a burning, visceral passion now, but back when we played Brawl together, her mains were Lucas and Snake. You can imagine the pain and agony she felt when Smash 4 initially came out. Lucas’ DLC came out around my birthday, so her gift to me that year was a $10 eShop card. She just told me: “you know what to spend it on.”

Cloud-“Hey guys, you know what would’ve been awesome? In Brawl, if, like, they put in Cloud from Final Fantasy 7?”

Corrin-At this point I was a big Fire Emblem fan riding hot on the hype train for Fates, so I was very excited for Corrin. The dragon-inspired moveset also seemed really cool. Funny how times have changed, and when Byleth was added in I was very lukewarm compared to when my reaction to Corrin.

Inkling-Similar story to the Smash 4 reveal trailer, I was absolutely not expecting a Smash announcement that day and I saw the video was in my YouTube recommended feed while I was at my internship of all places. Unfortunately, none of the other people there were gamers (let alone Smash fans), so they couldn’t share in my hype.

Everyone is Here/Ridley-I can’t properly give this one the justice it deserves in a short amount of words and this post is already getting really long, so I’ll save this one for a later day if you guys are interested. To keep it short, let’s just say that I was very much a part of the Ridley gang and I was very happy to see him in.

Belmonts and K. Rool-I got up at 7 in the morning to watch that trailer and loved every second of it. Keep in mind that I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. The only thing that sort of spoiled it for me was that the Smash teams themselves leaked it the night before by releasing a track titled Bloody Tears/Monster Dance

Ken and Incineroar-Nothing against these two, but at the time I was crushed when I realized the Grinch leak was fake. Now I can look back on it and laugh at Little Mac getting yeeted through the billboard and Villager’s stance at the end of the trailer.

Sans Mii Costume-Pretty sure I’ve already mentioned this, but when I first saw that trailer I legit fell out of my chair laughing. I’m not even an Undertale fan, but seeing funny skeleton man on my screen just broke me. The fact that Toby went to Sakurai’s house and beat him in Smash made it even better.

Banjo-I’ve never actually played a Banjo Kazooie game before, but I’ve seen enough videos about them over the years that I almost feel like I have. They’re ingrained in my childhood due to that in a weird way. Plus, it felt so good to have a victory over the Steve fans. I felt the weight of that Jiggy that bounced on the floor.

And that’s about it! If you guys want to hear my thoughts on the Everyone is Here trailer, please let me know and I’ll do another post like this.

...Upon rereading this post for spelling errors, I realized that you probably were more asking about my favorite reveal trailers throughout multiple timelines. Oops. Let me know if that’s what you wanted and I’ll answer with my thoughts on my favorite future reveal trailers.

#ask #futuresmashmemes #oops this got long lol #smash bros

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 5 years

Text

This fic will end in 1-2 more parts.

Part 5

"I did not lay my bong down for that ass to go unbeat," Shawn deadpanned as he stood alongside Erik, watching Trent reach the end of the block untouched. He'd sobered up for this and was angry. His hands twitched. He couldn't let someone get away with that level disrespect toward one of his best friends. Erik seemed too calm for him, which was uncharacteristic, especially in a situation like this.. and with Ken. "You gone do something?"

Erik stared forward at the corner of the block as Trent disappeared around it causing Shawn's jaw to clench. "I'm not finna stand here," Shawn mumbled shaking his head with his hands behind his back waiting for Erik to do anything.

"Man, fuck this." Shawn lunged forward but was stopped by Erik's grip on his jacket.

"Hol'up." Noticing the irritation on Shawn's face, he eased up as Shawn snatched out his grasp. The swollen, cut-up face of Shawn's stepfather came to Erik's mind. It only took one time for Shawn's little sister to say their stepdad looked at her inappropriately for gentle and goofy Shawn to snap and almost kill him. He'd been kicked out of the house by his mother who was pissed because her man left after getting his ass beat. According to Shawn, he didn't regret it and after that he and Erik never talked about what happened, but Erik always knew that Shawn had the potential to give him a run for his money if he ever got serious. It was his protective instinct.

Shawn looked Erik up and down in disappointment as he turned to track Trent down on his own.

"Aye," Erik called effectively halting him. Shawn turned back even angrier. He rarely got angry. Erik had to tell him something. "Come back, lemme talk to you," he called watching Shawn's jaw clench. Shawn walked back and Erik stepped forward to meet him, patting and squeezing his shoulder to calm him. "Walk with me to the car," Erik gestured with head, "I'm a show you something."

Shawn stared at Erik for a few seconds before following him, climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door.

Erik looked as relaxed as he did when nothing was wrong and Shawn waited to hear him out.

"You and Ken," Erik smirked, "Hotheaded. You think I'd let a nigga walk away after disrespect like that? Me?" Erik chuckled shutting the driver's side door as Shawn sat, still not talking but listening.

Erik drove around the block slowly and when Shawn looked up, they were passing Trent who was standing on the sidewalk.

"We could get him now while he talking to shorty," Shawn said hopefully. Trent was chatting up a pretty brown skin girl in a purple dress and large hoops. Shawn watched with his hand on the door handle, but Erik kept driving to his annoyance. He balled his lips impatiently staring forward.

"Shawn, trust me aight. I care about Ken too. She's my best friend too... and I know you know how I feel about her," Erik glanced quickly making brief eye contact. Shawn wasn't stupid. He'd caught Erik watching Ken a few times, but he'd never mentioned it, looking away instead.

"Then fuckin do something," Shawn mumbled rubbing his eyes.

Erik smirked, smiling even more when Shawn looked over in curiosity.. drawn by the glint in Erik's eye. He looked Erik over. He was up to something. Shawn had known Erik for a while and what he knew was that Erik was a very petty nigga. He could be downright grimy and vengeful but it was always kept lowkey and out view. It was an evil streak that most people didn't see because he was so slick.

Shawn thought about it and the corner lips turned up as he relaxed in his seat. Most times, he felt like Erik was too extra but right now... it seemed fitting. Erik was angry, he was angry, and so was Travis. Shawn knew in that moment that whatever Erik did, it would be revenge to the 3rd power on behalf of them all. For Ken.

"You good now," Erik asked.

"What we doing? What's the plan," Shawn asked calmly.

"I'll tell you. Shorty in the purple dress? I know her. She the bait."

"Bait. She know what she doing?"

"She knows exactly what she's doing. She's gonna get him to the Sleep In and we... are gonna be there ready to beat his ass. Off campus like the rules state. But only after she fuck him."

"You got him pussy," Shawn frowned, confused. "Maybe I smoked away all my brain cells but how does that work?"

"She burnin," Erik smirked watching Shawn's reaction. His jaw dropped. "Yep," Erik smiled, "HIV."

Shawn gaped, eyes troubled. Maybe this was a little too far.

Erik chuckled, his eyes light with humor. "Told you. You too soft. You just back me up when it's time."

"Oh I'm a stomp his bitchass," Shawn replied.

----

Ken walked to her next class wondering if she'd see Trent, but she didn't. Her hands were ready in case she did. In skinny jeans, a black and white blouse, black wedges, and acrylics, she'd still punch him in the throat and then proceed to hit him with grown man punches, Big Ken style. She walked more slowly than usual, hoping for her chance, but she didn't see him.

After her class, she texted Erik to ask what he'd been up to not wanting to snitch and say that Travis had filled her in on the whole situation. Erik called to her surprise and she answered it.

"I'm out here being a decent law-abiding citizen Ms. Kendra. Why, what you up to? How was class?"

"Educational, Mr. Erik... Where were you today?"

"Sick," he coughed and Ken rolled her eyes. She knew his fake cough and imitated it making Erik laugh. "Okay I overslept."

"No you did not."

"How you gone tell me?! Travis told you didn't he. You know he still smitten and shit, he can't keep a secret!"

"Smitten?" Ken squinted. The word sounded so weird especially attached to Travis and her. She didn't want to think about it.

"It's your fault," Erik teased. "Your IG thotbook."

"Lookbook," she corrected. "Don't act like you don't be looking through it, obviously you do."

"You right."

Ken blinked, not sure of how she should respond. She swallowed. She hadn't expected him to cop to it so easily.

"Then since you already know the issue, since Travis couldn't control himself.. you should know Shawn and I are handling it. Don't nobody mess with Big Ken."

"Cool, but don't leave me out of it. I wanna get my licks in." She waited for his reply. "You hear me?"

"Hm? Yeah, my mind went left, my bad. I hear you."

"....Left where," she teased.

"You really wanna go there with me?" His voice deepened and her face heated as she bit her lip.

She looked around hoping no one could see her face, feeling her stomach flutter. He'd been good, not showing any special feelings toward her. He'd been keeping things platonic and though their friendship was finally back to normal, she missed the flirtation and secretly she hoped that he hadn't gotten over his thing for her. She felt conflicted.

"Relax. I'll keep you posted," he said hanging up. She pouted staring at their text thread. What could she say to him? She didn't want to ruin what they'd built. She called Shawn instead.

"Y'all making me uncomfortable," he said.

"I didn't do anything," Ken combated. "Wait... you got me on speaker?!"

"She was tryna make me talk nasty, freaky ass," Erik snitched. "Was not," Ken lied.

"I honestly don't care at this point.. but I don't wanna know. It's still weird for me," Shawn mumbled.

Ken understood. They were all best friends after all and it was weird. But when she thought of how fine Erik was.. he was sooo fine. She tried constantly not to notice. For years, she tried not to stare or hang on him because she didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable. Back when she knew beyond a doubt that she wasn't anything near his type, she was afraid he'd be disgusted and never talk to her again because he saw her as a nigga. A whole man. She didn't want to be happy to the degree that she was when he smiled or was near her and she chalked it all up to him being her best friend. She felt perverted like he was family. Like she was crossing a line she shouldn't whenever an impure thought came.

"My bad. I'll try to behave myself if Ms. Kendra does. Though, I can't make any promises," Erik replied with Ken hiding her smile. "Ken.."

"Huh.. Stop! Bye!" She groaned quickly ending the call. The butterflies were still there in her stomach.

It didn't take long.. She realized she still hadn't gotten what she'd called for. Sending a text to Shawn, she wondered what they meant when they said they were handling her situation. She wanted in and she let them know. She hoped that they wouldn't leave her out.

#mirror mirror #original #killmonger #erik killmonger

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queenofmoons67 · 4 years

Text

something wild (calls you home)

Fandom: Tiger and Bunny

Summary: When Kotetsu goes missing, the other heroes lose themselves searching for him, while Kotetsu himself tries to tell them he’s the dog Bunny took in.

Relationships: Kotetsu & Barnaby; Kotetsu & Everyone

Word Count: 2689

Hey everyone! I've been working on this fic for months now, and I'm proud to say that I finally finished it! It comes in at over 13k words, and five chapters. I'll be posting one every Wednesday!

Each chapter is told from the point of view of Kotetsu and one other person, who will be named in the chapter title.

Kotetsu is turned into a kai-ken, which is a dog breed famous for their tiger stripes!

Thanks as always to my beta @bookdancerfics, for their encouragement and editing, and for getting me into Tiger and Bunny in the first place.

I do not own Tiger and Bunny, and the fic title comes from Lindsey Stirling’s song “Something Wild.”

Chapter 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5: Kotetsu and Barnaby

Kotetsu woke up with a splitting headache, wondering what on earth Antonio had let him drink the night before. Except… Kotetsu furrowed his brow in thought. He hadn’t been drinking. He had gone for a walk and heard—screaming? Or something similar. Either way, he definitely remembered the spandex of his mask under his fingers, the soft press of it against his face. He had put it on for something, and then… Kotetsu groaned. A giant, aching blank.

At least he was relatively safe, though. Light pierced his head even through his closed eyelids, so he was outside somewhere, not held captive in a warehouse. The main question was where, and was he injured enough that he would need to call a taxi. All of his bones ached, and his muscles felt like someone had treated them like a rubber band.

Opening his eyes, Kotetsu stared up the brick wall of an alley into a clear gray-blue sky. Someone’s white-leafed plant waved gently on a breeze, and—

Kotetsu blinked. Still white-leafed. He blinked again. Still white-leafed, and even for an alley in the city, this area was remarkably void of almost any colors. Kotetsu slammed his eyes closed tightly enough that he saw sparks, held them like that for a solid thirty seconds, and opened them again.

The plant still had white leaves. Why did the plant have white leaves?! Determined to figure out what was going on, Kotetsu tried to stand up, only to stumble back down when his legs didn’t move quite right. They were shorter than he was used to, bending in a way they weren’t supposed to, and—and there were four of them?

Kotetsu started whining in panic, a high-pitched noise that should not be coming out of his throat and turned into a bark of disbelief.

Kotetsu decided to blame that panic for the fact it took him a minute to realize he had just barked. Like a dog.

Kotetsu twisted where he sat, not trusting his legs at the moment, but determined to get a full picture of what his body looked like.

His body twisted a lot more than he was used to. He was able to scramble around enough that his eyes faced his back—his fur-covered, hotdog-shaped, tail-attached back. Kotetsu whined again, and the tail tucked itself into his side, whip-thin and shivering.

What was he supposed to do now?

Barnaby wandered the streets staring at his phone. He had texted Kotetsu two hours before, wondering if the older man wanted to meet up for a movie or something, only to get nothing in return. If it was any other person, he wouldn’t worry, but this was Kotetsu. As a hero and a father, the man was religious in always having his phone on his person, volume on the ringer turned all the way up. And every text got an immediate response. Always. Even if it was just a thumbs up. Barnaby had asked why once, because it bordered on excessive, and Kotetsu had rubbed his head sheepishly.

“I can’t be there for Kaede in person most of the time,” he explained. “But I can be there virtually. If my daughter at least knows that I listen to her, that I hear her—I hope that she’ll come to me when she really needs that. But it kind of carried over into my texting with other people, too.”

Barnaby had snorted a “kind of?” He had grinned to ease the blow, and tucked the little piece of Kotetsu into his head. Now, he kind of wished he hadn’t.

“It’s just two hours,” he muttered, glancing at the clock on his phone, down at the lack of new texts, and then up at the building before him—Kotetsu’s apartment.

“It’s just two hours,” he told himself, climbing the stairs. “Everyone else would tell you not to worry. And they’d be right.”

“It’s just two hours,” he muttered, fishing the extra key Kotetsu had given him out of his pocket.

“It’s just two hours,” he thought to himself, staring around at an empty apartment. Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink, and examining them showed traces of an old dinner—but not that old. Probably from that night. And Kotetsu’s favorite shoes and jacket weren’t at the door, and there had been no sign of a break in.

“He probably went for a walk,” Barnaby said aloud. His voice echoed in the quiet, and with Kotetsu’s phone gone with the shoes and jacket, it did nothing to convince him his partner was alright. Barnaby settled on the couch. When Kotetsu came in, he would be waiting.

Barnaby jerked awake to the sound of the neighbors yelling next door. Momentarily confused as to why his glasses were still on, he glanced around and stilled as his memory came back—but Kotetsu obviously hadn’t. The tv he’d turned on after an hour was still on, the doorway shut and empty. And most telling was his glasses. He didn’t know why Kotetsu had picked the habit up, but the man tended to take them off and put them on the nearest flat surface for him when he fell asleep first.

Barnaby rubbed sleep from his eyes, then rushed for the door. There was no need for coffee; he was wide awake already.

Barnaby didn’t return to his own home till late that night. He and the other heroes, officially given permission to worry after Kotetsu didn’t show up and Barnaby told them about the previous night, had spent the day split between combing the streets, contacting anyone who might know where their coworker was, and taking care of regular hero work. When it neared midnight, and almost sixteen full hours of work, Agnes had charged in and barked that they would start separating the search for Wild Tiger into shifts. She would take shift one. Everyone else was sent home.

Staring up at his own building and remembering how he had done the same at Kotetsu’s the night before, Barnaby wondered why he had even bothered coming this far. He was going to spend the night on the streets, no matter what Agnes said—though he supposed he could use some fuel first. With that in mind, Barnaby took the elevator up, and came to a sudden halt at his own front door. Curled up, sound asleep and firmly blocking his way, was a medium-sized orange and black dog.

Kotetsu woke to a hand nudging his shoulder, first softly, then harder. “Mmm,” he groaned. “Okaa-san, just a bit longer…”

“Dog,” a familiar voice ordered. “You have to get up.”

“Buuuny-chan,” Kotetsu whined. “‘M not a dog… ‘m a Wild Tiger… and what are you… doing here?” He trailed off as he opened his eyes to a black, white, and yellow Bunny staring down at him. “You look horrible!” He exclaimed. “Huge bags, Bunny, huge, and, and why do you look like you’re in an old movie? What have you been doing?!”

He tried to scramble up, needing to poke and prod his partner for any hidden injuries, only for his legs to slip out from under him. He fell to the floor with a yelp, and only a quick hand from Bunny kept his head from smacking into the floor.

“Careful, dog!” Bunny cried. “Honestly, I have enough going on without worrying about you, too.”

Kotetsu didn’t answer him. The fall from too many legs, the repeated “dog” calls from Bunny, and his own sudden colorblindness had all combined into one huge reminder that, oh yeah, the Tiger had been turned into a dog.

The panic startled another whine out of him, and he stared up at his partner with wide eyes, tail softly slapping the ground behind him. He had barely managed to figure out his legs enough to drag himself to Bunny’s, only for his partner to not show up for hours and hours. But he was here now. Bunny was here now, and they would figure something out together.

Kotetsu whined, then tried to get his legs to work again. They had gotten him here, right? They could work again, and then—

“Whoa, there, dog!” Bunny warned. The man laid a hand on his shoulder, pressing down gently but firmly. “Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

Kotetsu barked. Of course he did, but—

“Then take it slow.” Bunny stared down at him sternly, and Kotetsu huffed. Well. He supposed he could do that much.

Barnaby watched for a second, eyes narrowed, as the dog tried to struggle to his feet before caving and reaching to help. One arm around the dog’s chest, the other under his butt, lift, and—

“Come on,” he coaxed, bending his wrist awkwardly to pat the dog’s shoulder the best he could. “Put your legs down. I can’t hold you forever. That’s it, there we go.”

When he was sure the dog was holding his own weight, Barnaby took his arms away and crouched down on his heels.

“Are you injured?” He muttered, peering at the dog’s legs and petting him. “I don’t feel any hot spots… Sore, maybe?” He looked to the dog’s head, and found him staring back with wide eyes. “Though I don’t know why I expect you to know… or answer me,” he realized with a sigh. The heroes had split up to cover as much ground as possible, only really talking when necessary they were so distracted with Kotetsu’s disappearance. Considering Barnaby had grown used to the man’s constant chatter…

Something cold nudged his arm, and Barnaby looked up to find the dog looking up at him. The dog barked.

Barnaby let his hand come up to rub at the dog’s ears, closing his eyes. “You’re not Kotetsu,” he murmured. “No matter how much I wish you were.”

The dog barked again.

“But I am,” Kotetsu barked. “Bunny! Bunny it’s me!” He wagged his tail as fast as he could, till he had worked up the full body wiggles he had seen real dogs do, trying to create a giant “look at me” sign. “Bunny! Bunny! Bunnnnny!”

Bunny managed to crack a small smile. “At least you’re feeling better,” he noted. “And probably not injured after all, moving like that. Are you ready to come inside?”

“I’d feel a lot better if you realized the dog with tiger stripes was Wild Tiger,” Kotetsu replied.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Bunny stood, back cracking—seriously, what had his partner been doing all day—and opened his apartment door before standing to the side.

Instead of moving, though, Kotetsu eyed the suddenly long way between himself and the door. “Uh… Bunny-chan? I don’t think I can walk that.”

“Come on, dog.” Bunny made clicking noises with his tongue, and waved a hand.

“Seriously, Bunny?” Kotetsu muttered. Though he supposed he had to try walking again sometime… He took a step forward, then quickly took another one when the first threatened to send him to the ground. And then another, because that was his paw almost right out from under him, and by the time Kotetsu passed through the door he was running full speed ahead for Bunny’s arm chair.

In hindsight, maybe Kotetsu should have realized that barely being able to walk also meant jumping was out of the question. As it was, Kotetsu tried to gather his legs under him, failed, and scrabbled at the floor till he finally managed to turn and slide, heavy and fast, into the side of the chair. Panting, Kotetsu flopped to the floor and prepared for Bunny’s laughter.

None came.

After taking a minute to regain his proper breathing skills, Kotetsu lifted his head and peered across the room. He almost lost those skills again. Bunny stared back at him, leaning against a closed door, with tears in his eyes. Sniffing, the man took off his glasses to wipe his eyes before replacing them and moving toward Kotetsu.

“Kotetsu would love you,” Bunny sighed.

“Eh?” Kotetsu blinked.

Bunny slumped into the chair, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. His eyes stared right into Kotetsu’s, green and piercing. Kotetsu couldn’t help but sit up straight, forcing his front legs to hold his weight and bring his head closer to Bunny’s level.

“Bunny?”

“We couldn’t find him,” Bunny whispered. “We spent the entire day looking for Kotetsu, and we couldn’t find him. I should still be out there, but—” Bunny’s hand curled into a fist “—but I need sleep and a break. And now you. I can’t just leave you here when you need help. He wouldn’t want that. Even when you’re just a dog.” Bunny bowed his head into his clenched fist, his voice breaking on the last word, and Kotetsu’s heart broke with it.

Oh. That was—of course they had looked for him. He had been exhausted by the time he made it to the apartment, who knew how long it took him to get there, let alone how long he had slept undisturbed on the doorstep. And his coworkers—his friends—his family had spent that time looking for him, stressed out of their minds.

Kotetsu whined, horrified he hadn’t tried to find them. Nevermind that his legs still didn’t work properly, or that Bunny hadn’t even recognized him yet—he should have done something.

“Bunny,” he whined, and nosed at his partner’s hands. “Bunny, look at me. It’s not your fault.”

Bunny raised his head, and Kotetsu rested his head on his partner’s hands, gazing up at him with eyes that, he hoped, expressed how much he cared for Bunny.

Bunny smiled softly—achingly—just one corner of his mouth lifted, the other frozen stiff. “You have to belong to someone, dog,” he said, shifting his hands so Kotetsu’s head rested on just one, the other lifting to a spot just behind his ear and scratching. “You’re too well-behaved otherwise—well, minus the attack on my chair.” He snorted, but his hand kept scratching, and Kotetsu kept his head there. It was a little weird, but if it was what his partner needed at the moment… if it was what he needed, Bunny could pet him all he wanted.

And ok, Kotetsu could see why real dogs liked it.

As much as Barnaby thought the dog probably needed to rest, he also wasn’t about to leave the dog in his home unattended. It was as much about the health of the dog as it was the safety of his home. He still wasn’t completely convinced the dog wasn’t injured, so he’d rather have him where Barnaby could keep an eye on him.

Though of course that was easier said than done. After granting himself a half hour to cleaning up, a half hour to food, and another half hour to sleep, Barnaby tried to coax the dog to the door. Instead, the dog rolled over on the floor and pointedly closed his eyes.

“Dog,” Barnaby called, toe tapping a bit in annoyance. “Now isn’t the time for sleep.”

The dog’s tail thumped once, and Barnaby couldn’t help but imagine a stern “yes it is.”

Barnaby’s toe tapping intensified. “I need to look for Kotetsu, dog. And I’m not about to wait till morning.”

The dog rolled over again, looking up at him with wide brown eyes, and Barnaby’s shoulders released tension he hadn’t realized they’d had. Walking over, he knelt next to the dog and rested a hand on its side.

Lowering his head to make eye contact again, he whispered, “It’s important, dog.”

The dog’s eyebrows shuttered together before relaxing again, and Barnaby sighed. Somehow, it felt like he was having an argument with an actual person.

“I’ll call a friend to join me, and you can get dinner,” he promised.

The dog barked, jowls open and smiling, before fighting to get his legs under him again. Smiling back, Barnaby steadied his shoulders before climbing to his own feet.

“Still a bit wobbly, huh, dog?” he asked. The dog’s shoulder leaned against his upper calf as they walked together, step by step, out the door to the elevator.

Next Up: Kotetsu and Nathan. Bunny betrays Kotetsu by sticking one of Kotetsu’s own stinky socks in his nose. Ew, Bunny!

Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! If you did, please leave a comment!

And if you missed it up top: This will be updated every Wednesday!

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desperationandgin · 5 years

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Deep as the Road is Long (Part III, Chapter 24)

Rating: General Audiences

Also Read On: AO3

Previous Chapter

A/N: FOUR CHAPTERS LEFT!! And the final mood board made by @smashing-teacups :D I wanted to mention up here that this entire plot was done and written ago weeks and weeks before I even started posting this story. Where the story is going and how it wraps up was always the plan, and it’s funny to see all of the comments asking for exactly what happens, lol. I hope that doesn’t mean anyone will stop reading with such a short journey left! As always, I appreciate every single comment ❤ Yes, there is a time jump of a couple of months!

October 2017

Wedding planning, Claire had assumed, was exhausting work. There was figuring out what documents were needed, getting together notice forms and statutory fees, wedding dress shopping with Jenny, finding a caterer, selecting guests and color themes. At least the venue, (the grounds of Lallybroch) was easy and free. Having a beautiful old home as a backdrop on sprawling acreage couldn’t have been better, and she has a feeling they’d saved thousands with one easy decision. Still, all the planning for a November wedding was why, she thought, she was exhausted and stressed from the very end of August all through September.

Two days ago she’d woken up, gone about her daily routine, then vomited in the sink; everything happening too quickly for her to make it to the bathroom. When she was queasy again in the early afternoon, then ravenous all evening, she thought maybe it’d been a light stomach bug.

Then, she repeated it the next day.

That, coupled with intense fatigue and the slow realization she’d skipped her period in September (and was already three days late in October) has her sitting in the bathroom now, holding a digital pregnancy test, reading and re-reading one single word: Pregnant.

How it’s possible, she doesn’t know. She’d taken the test just to quiet a voice in the back of her mind as a doctor unwilling to let coincidences slip by. She remembers the day she’d been told she couldn’t have children, the damage from the accident she’d been in with her parents, being crushed --pinned at her abdomen-- left behind too much that couldn’t be fixed--or so she’d been told. Because she doesn’t know for sure if this is viable, she decides to wait to tell Jamie; it’s too early, and if he has anything to fear or worry about she can’t do that to him right now without any concrete answers for him. Dinner is quiet, her mind elsewhere, and she’s thankful his response to it is not asking questions, just holding her close that night and murmuring a soft, Gaelic prayer across her forehead.

After pleading with a local office’s staff, she manages to see a doctor two mornings later. Clad in nothing but a flimsy pink paper gown, she’s quiet as the sound of her own heartbeat fills the room, steady and strong. With only a slight adjustment, the rapid pulse of her child (no bigger than the size of a single sweet pea) fills the room, a muffled garble of thumping.

Eight weeks pregnant. She’s approximately two months, and when she does the math in her head it’s so obvious that she’s shaken. The baby’s in the right place, not growing along a fallopian tube or anything equally dangerous. Everything is normal and she has the prescription for prenatal vitamins to prove it.

She calls in the rest of the day at work and nearly goes to the bookstore but decides to simply head home, sending Jamie a quick text that she isn’t feeling well and he doesn’t need to worry about walking her home. Laying down in their bed, she rests her hands atop her still flat stomach and closes her eyes, trying to imagine that belly swelling, having a soft roundness to it and giving life when she never thought she would. She knows with Jamie, if they’d ever decided to have a child they would have, but she never thought it would be a situation outside of adoption or surrogacy. It makes her cry, tears of joy (and some fear) that she gets out of her system by the time Jamie’s home. Meeting him at the door with a soft kiss, she takes a brown paper bag from him and peeks in.

“Chicken and dumplin’s. From the place ye like that ye say has perfect comfort foods. Something easy on yer stomach,” he explains, watching as she moves to the kitchen to put their dinner down. “How do ye feel?”

Claire pretends to be busy for a moment getting bowls and spoons and napkins, but finally, she answers him. “I’m all right. Ready to eat,” she manages to say with a soft smile. “I’m not sick. I went to the doctor today.”

“Aye?” he asks with a small frown, though there’s relief in his eyes as well. “A person does no’ throw their guts up multiple times a day for no reason.”

“They do if they’re pregnant.”

She hadn’t meant for it to come out quite like that, and she looks up, locking eyes with him. Her on one side of their kitchen, him on the other, a countertop between them.

“...What, Sassenach?”

It feels so quiet a pin could drop and sound like an explosion. “Jamie, I’m pregnant,” she says softly, moving around to him and reaching for his hands. “About eight weeks, the doctor said. I wanted to be sure I really was and that everything was alright before I said anything.”

“Pregnant.” With one hand in hers, the other runs over his face before sitting in a chair. “I thought ye couldna--”

“So did I. But I was so young when the accident happened, my body’s had a long time to repair itself in ways I don’t think anyone expected possible. At least back then, when it happened.” Sitting across from him, Claire squeezes his hand between both of hers. “I’m having a baby, Jamie.”

There are a lot of reactions she expects; fear and anxiety are at the top of her list. He lost his wife in childbirth, after all, after being reassured that she was fine. What she doesn’t expect is the way he pulls her close and clings to her, one hand tangled in her hair and the other pressing to her back.

“I canna lose ye.”

“I know, Jamie,” she whispers. “I know. I wish I could promise, but I won’t. It isn’t fair to you. But I will tell you I’ll do everything I can to make sure I’m healthy, that our baby is healthy.” Her lips press to his temple as she feels his hand snake around to rest against her belly. “I listened to a heartbeat today. It sounds like a washing machine,” she says with a soft smile.

“So, the bairn is strong? And you’re healthy?”

“Everything right now is very normal, Jamie. The fatigue and morning sickness, and I’m sure any pending tenderness. All normal,” she tries to assure him.

Jamie stares at her stomach for a good long while before speaking again. “How long have ye kent it?”

She shakes her head to make sure he knows it hasn’t been long before the words even leave her mouth. “Only since the day before yesterday. I took a test but I didn’t think it could possibly be correct. I waited to tell you in case it wasn’t, or in case it was something else.” Something else causing a false positive. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Jamie,” she urges, mentally noting that she might suggest he bump his therapy back up from once a week to twice. At least for a little while.

Wetting his lips, he clears his throat and inhales deeply before letting it out slowly. “I canna lose anyone else,” he finally tells her. “To go through it again, I’m no’ strong enough. If I Iost ye at any point, or the bairn, I…”

This is is what she knew would be the biggest mental roadblock keeping him from being happy. She doesn’t blame him; to know how horrifically and quickly Annalise died scares her a bit, too. But still, she knows odds and her lips press to his forehead firmly for a moment before pulling back. “If there is ever, ever any sign of distress for me or the baby, we’ll go straight to the hospital, I promise. I might have one advantage Jamie, and it’s that I’m a doctor. I’ll know right away if something isn’t right.” At least she hopes she will. Whether or not that’s true doesn’t matter to her so much as soothing him right now.

Nodding, Jamie pulls back so that he can see her face fully. “I want to be excited, I do.”

Shaking her head, Claire relocates herself from her own chair to his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I know you’re afraid. I understand why, I promise. You don’t need to be any sort of way, I just need you here with me. Supporting me.”

“I’m no’ going anywhere,” he says vehemently, wrapping her up and pressing his lips to her shoulder. “The next appointment, I can go wi’ ye?”

“Of course. Every visit from now on. I know it was a risk, keeping the appointment from you today, and I would have told you if something was wrong, I just--you’ve been through so much Jamie, we both have. I wanted to have as much information as I could before saying anything.”

His lips press to her forehead this time. “No, no, it’s alright, Sassenach,” he assures her, resting his head against hers now. “I understand.” She was trying to protect his heart the best she could, and for that alone, he’s grateful for the different ways she loves him. “When’s the next visit, then?”

“Next month. Just after the wedding,” she murmurs. “Wait, hold on,” she remembers, getting up and going to the counter, picking up an envelope before settling herself on his lap again. Pulling out the ultrasound photos, she points out their baby. “Usually they don’t even do ultrasounds for this stage, but I insisted.”

Jamie squints a little as he tries to make out the photo but he sees the small little dot that is apparently life in Claire’s belly. “Ye ken what this is?” he breathes out, trying to focus on what he knows to be true, not what he’s afraid could happen.

“Hmm?” Her fingers lazily move through his hair, gliding easily through the curls.

“Proof, Sassenach. Living proof that through all of the pain and hurt, we made our way back to one another. We’ve loved one another.”

Blinking quickly, trying to push back tears (could she blame her sudden emotions on hormones yet?) Claire presses her lips to his temple. “We can still make something good, and put that into the world,” she murmurs, covering his hand which has found its new home against her stomach.

“Aye, we can,” Jamie agrees, letting out a soft breath that makes her hair bounce lightly against her cheek.

“We can, and we will.”

Next Chapter

#outlander fic #outlander #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #datril #deep as the road is long #my fic

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cbk1000 · 5 years

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So You Want To Read Literature In a Foreign Language

I’ve had a few language asks here and there and thought I would do a write-up specifically on reading in a second language, as that is A. My specialty and B. Most language courses are going to focus on speaking and listening comprehension. Which certainly isn’t a bad thing, but the vocabulary necessary to carry on a competent conversation in a second tongue is much smaller than what you’ll need to read even popular fiction, let alone books of more serious literary aspirations. I’ve arranged this list in order of approximate difficulty, but of course it will always depend upon the exact book/article/comic you’re reading and whether or not its vocabulary coincides with your own.

I’ll put this under a cut, as it will be quite long.

A few tips, however, before I get on with the list: the more you read, the faster you’ll improve, as with anything. If you have the time and drive to read an hour or more a day in your target language, you’ll be knocking out books in no time. In my first year of Russian I was reading for 2+ hours a day, and by the end of that year I was reading fluently with no help from English translations (as I used in my earlier months) and I could pick up just about any genre I liked. My Russian vocabulary, of course, was still not as advanced as my English, but I was able to read fairly complex literature and to understand the majority of the text.

If a piece is too hard, put it down. I can’t emphasize this enough. Trying to read something massively beyond your reading level is frustrating and will only put you off. There were books I had to set aside in my first year and even beyond just because, stylistically speaking, they were over my head. I could follow the main story, but I was missing enough details/subtleties in the author’s style that I knew I needed to set it aside and try again later when I could fully appreciate it. There is absolutely no shame in this; get a few more books under your belt, and try again in a few months. I have now gone back and read several books I had to set aside; you’ll get there eventually. Some pieces are very difficult; I didn’t attempt Solzhenitsyn’s ‘Red Wheel’ series (which was the series that prompted me to learn Russian in the first place, since later volumes hadn’t been translated) until I had been reading prolifically for over two years. My dude is dense, and also wants to go over every minutiae of the fucking Duma’s every meeting with you. It was also around this time that I started reading poetry; it was just too difficult for me prior to that.

Most of all: have fun! Reading not only improves your vocabulary, it expands your understanding of a culture tremendously, and allows you an access to it that you can’t get through translation. Think of all the history you can read!! The primary sources!!

Anyway, away with this rambling introduction, and onward to the actual useful part of this post.

Adapted Classics: I found a series of these in Russian very early on in my studies, and you’d do well to see whether or not you can find something similar in your target language, especially if you’re a beginner. These are essentially long-winded summaries of well-known classics with simplified grammar, so that you can expand your vocabulary without breaking your head over more complex sentence structure that you can’t yet comprehend. I read a simplified version of ‘Anna Karenina’, ‘Jane Eyre’, one of the Sherlock stories, ‘The Adventures of Tom Sawyer’, and ‘20,000 Leagues Under the Sea’ this way. They were extremely useful in growing my vocabulary while not overwhelming me with long, meandering sentences that would utterly lose me in the beginning of my studies (Tolstoy, I love you, but this is aimed directly at you. I REMEMBER THE CITIZENS FLEEING MOSCOW. 200+ WORDS BEFORE YOU THOUGHT TO PUT IN A FUCKING PERIOD).

Comics: Comics are great. I read some Star Wars graphic novels in Russian, a few manga, part of ‘The Walking Dead’ series, and also some Archie comics, which I used to read all the time as a kid. Not only do you have pictures to help with context, but you don’t usually have challenging descriptive passages to contend with. It turns out that Russians pirate just about everything, so I was able to find lots of sites with huge selections of comics available to read free online. Do a bit of googling and see if you can find something similar in your own target language.

Fanfiction: If you’ve followed this blog long enough, then you know that actually I got my start reading gay Captain American porn in Russian, and it was brilliant, thank you very much, and I bet you I was just about the only beginner Russian student on this planet who could barely introduce themselves but definitely could have had gay phone sex. Fanfiction is not generally written in a highly literary style, so it’s easier to follow. Moreover, you’re dealing with characters, tropes, and plotlines you’re already familiar with, and that familiarity helps enormously. While English is of course the most widely-used language on AO3, you have many language options to choose from, and in a large fandom like Marvel or Harry Potter, you’re bound to find something in your target language. You might check as well to see if any massively popular fics in a fandom you follow have been translated into your target language; I’ve noticed that quite a lot with Russian.

News Articles: News articles are generally written in a simplified language designed to be accessible by the average reader, who’s actually not very good at reading at all. I’m sure this varies somewhat by country and language, but here in the States most clock in at something like a 7th or 8th grade reading level, as that, depressingly, appears to be the average reading level of the majority of the reading public. They’re short and will introduce some new words into your vocabulary in an easily digestible way. Also: most big magazine publications such as Cosmopolitan and People have several different versions of their websites. The Russian version, for instance, is cosmo.ru instead of cosmo.com. The French edition is cosmopolitan.fr. Figure out what designation your target language uses in place of .com and you’re in business (unless you accidentally get a porn site). Do I like Cosmopolitan magazine? Not particularly. Did it teach me new sex terms in Russian? Absolutely. And that’s what we’re all looking for, right?

Dual Language: At around 4-5 months into my studies, I started reading dual language texts. I did this first with short stories, and later with full novels. This is not for everyone as it requires you to constantly switch back and forth between your native and target language, and especially if you’re farther on in your studies, this might muddle you more than help you. I found at about 8 months or so I had to take off the training wheels, as my vocabulary and grasp of grammar was good enough that looking over at the English text was actually confusing me, because I had gone from laboriously, awkwardly translating everything in my head to just reading it naturally. But in the beginning, it was a much faster way to check vocabulary, and it also helped me to sort out grammar by comparing it to my native language. All languages are trying to accomplish the same thing, which is to communicate; they just do it in different ways. But you can find a common ground even between languages that are vastly different, as English and Russian are. You can find some dual language texts, or you can do what I did, which is to put the English translation on an e-reader, and get hold of a hard copy of the Russian. I would always read the Russian first, and only if I was confused/missing a lot of words would I look over at the English text. Make sure you compare a couple of translations and pick the one that is most literally faithful, even if it’s not a great translation in and of itself. I used some English translations that I actually didn’t care for as a translation, but they were very literal and therefore very helpful in sussing the original text.

Books You’ve Already Read In Your Native Language: It doesn’t have to be a book you have practically memorised (though that will certainly help). Anything you’ve read at least once in your life will do. You’d be surprised how much will come back to you, and how much context will help you figure out any unfamiliar words. I picked up the Russian translation of Ken Follett’s giant-ass ‘Winter of the World’ about a year into my studies. His style is neither particularly difficult nor...impressive, but as it’s the second in a trilogy that follows three generations of multiple families from WWI all the way into the Cold War, it has a lot of military and political terminology that you don’t encounter in everyday speech. It’s also over 1,000 pages, so it’s rather daunting in a second language regardless. I had read it once before in English, probably some five years before I read the translation, and going into it I really didn’t remember that much. However, while reading, I found that certain plotlines would start coming back to me, and helped a lot in piecing together unfamiliar terminology, in addition to the words I already knew. Don’t focus overly much on every single word and trying to remember what it is in your native language; trust me, you will absorb a lot from context. Just let go and let it wash over you.

Translations: Translations are almost always going to be easier than a book originally written in your target language, if the texts are of comparable difficulty. For instance: ‘Les Miserables’ is easier for me in Russian than Solzhenitsyn’s ‘The Gulag Archipelago’. Both are massive, rambling texts with long asides on history and politics, and in English I’d say they’re pretty equally difficult reads. Certainly neither is what I would classify as light reading. So why is ‘Les Miserables’ easier? Because in a translation I’m not dealing with uniquely Russian slang and turns of phrase. Yes, some of it has to be Russified in order for the target audience to better comprehend it in their native tongue, but generally speaking it doesn’t feel Russian, if that makes sense. I can tell pretty much as soon as I pick up a book if it’s a translation. Now, French isn’t my native language, but I’ve used it as an example because I’ve read quite a bit of French literature in Russian translation, and fairly difficult authors/texts at that: Hugo, Stendahl, Zola, etc. etc. None of these authors are light beach reads, but they’re also not difficult for me to follow in Russian. And anything translated from English is even more accessible; most texts translated from English into Russian I can follow very nearly as well as I can read the original English. When you’re dealing with a heavy-hitter that’s writing in your target language, they can get up to all kinds of shenanigans and word play; a translation, generally speaking, is not going to be nearly so experimental.

Dumas: Why does Dumas get his own section? Because you should read him, dammit. HISTORY. SWASHBUCKLING. REVENGE. Dumas is fucking fun. He also has a huge oeuvre to choose from. Additionally, while he does have a lot of plotlines to follow (and this is the difficulty of Dumas when reading him in a second language) and you definitely need to get your historical vocabulary up to snuff, he is not an overly philosophical author. His novels are fun, action-oriented, and someone’s always eavesdropping on a Secret Political Conversation of the Utmost Importance. I’ve read quite a lot of Dumas in Russian (actually more than I’ve read in English) and they are easy, entertaining reads. You might get a little lost in the politics of the era, but unless you’re already familiar with them, you’d probably be a little lost in your native language as well. Don’t worry; people will start dramatically challenging one another to duels again very soon. Also: READ ‘THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO’ SERIOUSLY FOR FUCK’S SAKE DO IT.

#language #reading #books

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lemonbombsfjl · 5 years

Text

Text:

A person asked the question, "Why are people so hostile towards President Donald Trump?"

Chris O'Leary:

Before you pass my answer off as “Another Liberal Snowflake” consider that

1.) I'm an independent centrist who has voted Republican way more often in my life than Democrat, and

2.) If you want to call someone who spent the entire decade of his 20’s serving in the Marine Corps a snowflake, I’d be ready to answer the question what did you do with your 20’s?

Why Liberals (And not-so liberals) are against President Trump.

A.) He lies. A LOT. Politifact rates 69% of the words he speaks as “Mostly False or worse” Only 17% of the things he says get a “Mostly True” or better rating. That is an absolutely unbelievable number. How he doesn’t speak more truth by mistake is beyond me. To put it in context, Obama’s rating was 26% mostly false or worse, and I had a problem with that. Many of Trump’s former business associates report that he has always been a compulsive liar, but now he’s the President of the United States, and that’s a problem. And this is a man who expects you to believe him when he points at other people and says “They’re lying”

B.) He’s an authoritarian populist, not a conservative. He advances regressive social policy while proposing to expand federal spending and federalist authority over states, both of which conservatives are supposed to hate.

C.) He pretends at Christianity to court the Religious Right but fails to live anything resembling a Christ-Like Life.

D.) His nationalist “America First” message effectively alienates us and removes us from our place as leaders in the international community.

E.) His ideas on “Keeping us safe” are all thinly veiled ideas to remove our freedoms, he is, after all, an authoritarian first. They also are simply bad ideas.

F.) He couldn’t pass a 3rd-grade civics exam. He doesn't’ know what he’s doing. He doesn't understand how international relations work, he doesn’t understand how federal state or local governments work, and every time someone tries to “Run it like a business” it’s a spectacular failure. See Colorado Springs’ recent history as an example. The Short, Unhappy Life of a Libertarian Paradise And that was a businessman with a MUCH better business track record than Trump. We are talking about a man who lost money owning a freaking gambling casino.

G.) He behaves unethicaly and always has. As a businessman, he constantly left in his wake unpaid contractors and invoices, litigation, broken promises, whatever he could get away with.

H.) He is damaging our relationships with our best international friends while kissing up to nations that do not have our best interests in mind. To his question “Wouldn't’ it be great to have better relations with Russia?” The answer is Yes. But it is RUSSIA who needs to earn that, who must stop doing the things that are damaging to that relationship, or we are simply weaker for it.

I.) He has never seen a shortcut he didn't like, and you can’t take shortcuts in government. “Nuclear Option, Remove the Filibuster, I’ll change the Constitution by Executive Order…Don…what happens when you remove the filibuster and the other side retakes the majority in the Senate? Suddenly want that filibuster back? What happens if you manage to change the Constitution by Executive Order and an Anti-2A President wins the next election?

J.) He behaves and has always behaved as an unabashed racist. Yes, I’ve seen your favorite meme that claims he was never accused of racism before the Democrats…Absolutely false. Donald Trump’s long history of racism, from the 1970s to 2019 See the Central Park 5, the lawsuits and fines resulting from his refusal to lease to black tenants, the 1992 lost appeal trying to overturn penalties for removing black dealers from tables, his remarks to the house native American affairs subcommittee in 1993. The man sees and treats racial groups of people as monoliths.

K.) He is systematically steamrolling regulations specifically designed to keep a disaster like the 2007 subprime mortgage crisis from happening again.

L.) He speaks and acts like a demagogue. He sees the Legislative and Judicial branches of government as inconveniences, blows up at criticism no matter how deserved and actively tries to countermand constitutional processes, not to mention attempts to blackmail and coerce people who are saying negative things about him

M.) His choices for top positions, with the exception of Gen. Mattis, who is a gem, have been horrendous. A secretary of Education without a resume that would get her hired as a small town grammar school principal, A secretary of Energy who didn't know the Department of Energy was responsible for nuclear reserves, an EPA head whose biggest accomplishments to date had been suing the EPA on multiple occasions, an FCC head who while working for Verizon actively lobbied to kill net neutrality, and an Attorney General who thinks pot is “nearly as bad as heroin” and asked Congress for permission to go after legal pot businesses in states where it is legal. (There goes that great Republican States rights rally cry again, right? *Crickets*) An Interim AG after Firing his First AG who’s appointment is probably unconstitutional.

N.) He denies scientific fact. Ever notice that the only people you hear denying climate change are politicians and lobbyists? 99% of actual scientists studying the issue agree that it’s real, man-made and caused by greenhouse gasses. Ever notice that every big disaster movie starts with a bunch of politicians in a room ignoring a scientist's warning?

0.) He does not have the temperament to lead this nation. He is Thin Skinned, childish, and a bully, never mind misogynistic, boorish, rude, and incapable of civil discourse.

P.) He still does not understand that the words he speaks, or tweets, are the official position of 1/3 of the US government, and so does not govern his words. He still thinks when he speaks it’s good ol’ Donald Trump. It’s not. It’s the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. You have probably spread a meme or two around talking about how no president’s every word has ever been dissected before…YES, THEY ALWAYS HAVE. It’s just that every other president in our lifetime has understood the importance of his words and took great care to govern his speech. Trump blurts out whatever comes to his mind then complains when people talk about what a dumb thing that was to say.

Q.) He’s unqualified. If you owned a small business and were looking for someone to manage it, and an unnamed resume came across your desk and you saw 6 bankruptcies, showing a man who had failed to make money running CASINOS, would you hire him? He is a very poor businessman. This is a man it has been estimated would have been worth $10 BILLION more if he’d just taken what his father had given him, invested it in Index Funds and left it alone.

R.) He is President. But he refuses to take a leadership position and understand that he is everyone’s President. Conservatives complain about liberals chanting “Not my President” while Trump himself behaves as if no one but his supporters matter.

S.) He’s a blatant hypocrite. He spent 8 years bitching Obama out for his family trips, or golfing, or any time he took for himself, and what does he do? He was already on his 20th golf outing in APRIL of his 1st year in office. He constantly rants about respect for the military, yet can’t be bothered to attend the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day because of a little rain. (And that excuse about Marine One not being able to fly in the rain is HILARIOUS.)

T.) He’s a misogynist. It's not really ok in this day and age to be a misogynist, but it’s not a huge deal if you’re a private citizen. It’s a pretty big deal if you hate half the people you’re elected to lead. The disdain for women seeps out of his …whatever…. and he just can’t hide it.

U.) Face it. In any other election “Grab Em’ By the Pussy” would have been the end of that candidate’s chances. Back in the 90’s I used to marvel about how Teflon Bill Clinton was. I no longer do. The fact that he managed to slip by on that is as much a statement about how much people hate Hillary Clinton as it is about what is wrong with politics in this country right now.

V.) He has one response to a differing opinion. Attack. A good leader listens to criticism, to different points of view, is capable of self-reflection, tries to guide people to his point of view, and when necessary stands his ground and defends his convictions. Any of that sound like Trump? His default is not to Lead, its’ to attack. Scorched Earth. The Jim Acosta reaction is a good example. There was no defense of his convictions when Acosta was asking him repeated questions about his rhetoric on the caravan. His response was to attack Acosta.

W.) He takes credit for everything positive while deflecting blame for everything negative. Look at him with the Stock Market. He’s been bragging about it since day one, and to give credit where credit is due, speculation on coming deregulation early in his presidency did fuel some rapid growth, but to pretend that it’s all him, that we’re not in the 9th year of the longest bull market in history and THEN, when the standard market volatility that deregulation inevitably brings about starts to show up? Yeah. Look at yesterday. Hey! Stock Markets losing because the Democrats won! Do I need to bring out the Stock market chart for the last 10 Years again?

X.) He emboldens the worst among us. Counter-protesters are slammed into by a car while countering actual Nazi rally, and the response is there’s fault on “Both Sides” The media is at fault for a nut job sending them and Donald’s favorite targets pipe bombs. The truth is not all Republicans, not all Trump Supporters are racist, fascist lunatics. Many are just taken in by the bombastic personality and are living in an information bubble made worse by the fact that they unfollow anyone and ignore any source of information that makes them feel uncomfortable. People on the left do that too. The Biggest problem the right has right now is that the worst of the Right is the loudest and the most in your face, and the actual right, especially the Freaking PRESIDENT needs to be standing up and saying No. Those are not our values.

Y.) He seems to think the Constitution of The United States, the document that IS who we are, the document he took an oath to support and defend is some sort of inconvenience. He demonstrates a complete lack of understanding of Constitution, from believing he can alter the 14th through executive order, to thinking The free exercise clause in the first amendment somehow supersedes the establishment clause (not that he really understands either) or that the free exercise clause only applies to Christians. Or his attacks on freedom of expression and the press. He repeatedly makes it clear that if he’s read them, he does not understand Articles 1–3, and that’s something he really should have before he took the job, because they’re not going away.

Z.) I’ll use Z for something I do blame him for, but the rest of us have to carry the blame too. Polarization. This country is more politically polarized than I can remember in my lifetime. Some of you who are a few years older than I may remember how it was in the late 60’s when construction workers in New York were being applauded for beating up hippies, I think it’s pretty close to that right now, but that was before my time. And he is the cause of much of the current level polarization, but also the result. It didn't’ start with Trump. We’ve been going down this road I think since the eruption of the Tea Party in the early years of the Obama Administration. I do hope the tide turns before it gets much worse because the thing that scares me more than anything is what if that keeps going the way it has been? "

*snagged from a friends wall:

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whiskynottea · 6 years

Photo

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Previously, Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38

AO3

@theministerskat, once more, thank you love, for beta-ing this story! ❤️

Chapter 39. The Exams

Biology.

Cell structure and genetics, homeostasis and synaptic neurotransmission. My first exam, just a week after Jamie’s birthday. A week after that perfect evening; the last time I removed school completely from my thoughts, free of the impending challenge of the exams that would shape my life.

Murtagh had disappeared after we cut the cake – supposedly to leave us alone, although we knew exactly where he was going – and the four of us had decided to make popcorn and watch old Disney movies, to keep the child in Jamie alive.

As if he wasn’t a child already, blowing out his candles with such wonder and fervor, as if a whole new world had opened in front of him.

Ian had declared that one of the movies we had to watch was Finding Nemo, since it had become our party’s unofficial theme. Jenny and I picked Hercules, already giggling over the lines of Hades and the Muses’ songs. Perched on the two couches of the living room – Jamie had stated we were to have the largest one because it was his birthday – we’d sang, laughed, and recited almost all the dialogue of each movie. When Murtagh had come back – whistling a happy tune that made the smiles on our faces broader – I’d given Jamie the longest goodnight kiss in the history of the world and went to sleep in Jenny’s room. After approximately two hours of talking and giggling, Jenny and I had eventually fallen asleep, smiling, celebrating our victory over Jamie’s grief, with his full, belly laughs still echoing in our ears.

When I left their apartment the next morning, I tried to memorize the feel of Jamie’s arms around my body, the softness of his lips, warm and inviting on mine.

We saw each other much less over the following month, and even though we had both agreed that this was the best strategy to follow, it still seemed like the stupidest idea we’d ever had. But we had a goal and we had to achieve it.

Not that many miles south of Edinburgh, lay our future.

Oxford.

Every time I was ready to give in and call Jamie to meet me for a walk, I refocused my mind on that single word, imagining us both strolling around in that fairytale city, hands linked, feet feeling the uneven cobblestones under our shoes. My life was already divided into the pre- and post-Oxford era, and that was enough motivation to make my eyes and my thoughts return to the notes laid out on my desk.

I just had to excel in my exams.

I had been planning, studying, and preparing for more than a year, and it felt surreal that the time of the exams had finally come. I was trying to remain calm, to remind myself that I was ready, that I had done the best I could. It was the truth, after all. Since the beginning of the year I had gone over the content of my subjects more times than I could count. I had even organized my time during the exams; what questions I’d approach first, what I’d leave for the end.

But I knew that my textbooks wouldn’t be enough this time. There was always something more to learn, some new information I could fit in with the knowledge I already acquired. Something that would make a difference, that would demonstrate how hard I had worked, how serious I was about my choice.

When I’d read everything I thought would be relevant, I started watching YouTube videos and reading scientific papers. It was then that Lamb started teasing me, saying if I’d continue like I was I could just skip going to medical school altogether.

Lamb, who kept saying it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I failed my exams, that life always offers new possibilities, some of which I probably never fathomed beforehand.

I couldn’t even listen to him talking about failure, about a future different from what I’d dreamed of. I wouldn’t let that happen.

But… What if I had missed something important? What if I hadn’t paid attention to a significant detail?

“Will ye stop before ye go completely crazy, Sassenach?” Jamie asked me when I voiced my thoughts. “Ye ken everything! Ye’ll do great tomorrow!”

I sighed dramatically and he pressed me tight against his body with a strong arm around my shoulders. I pulled his face down towards me for a kiss, to drink in some of his optimism, to feel the auburn locks cold between my fingers and his lips warm on mine. He had come straight from the swimming pool and had almost dragged me out of my house to prevent me from going through the previous years’ exams one last time.

“Just for a wee walk, Sassenach,” he’d said. “To decompress before the big day.”

It was impossible to say no to Jamie, so I’d tried to silence the little voices in my head, crying that I should stay at home and study, instead of walking around Edinburgh the night before the exams.

“Ye wee nerd,” Jamie said, when I told him I felt bad for going out. I huffed and I nudged him on the ribs, pulling away from him.

“I’m not a nerd!” I protested, in a voice that was more high-pitched than I’d have liked.

He kept silent but raised an eyebrow, while I could plainly see the corner of his mouth curling up in a suggestive smile.

“I’m not!” I repeated, and then crossed my hands across the front of my chest, pouting. Seeing that he still hadn’t said a word, I relented. “Okay, maybe just a bit.”

That made him chuckle. “Come here, my nerd,” he said, curling his index finger repeatedly in a come hither way, broadly grinning.

“Your nerd…” I murmured, thinking, but didn’t move towards him. “So that makes you my jock?”

“I’m not a jock!” he said in a nasal voice, and I could hardly contain my giggle. Following his lead though, I just shrugged and looked at him. “We’re not playing in a rom-com,” he continued, defiant. “First of all, you weren’t secretly in love with me from the beginning.”

I wanted to cackle, but I did my best for a serious voice instead. “No, I wasn’t.” It was a lost battle, trying to keep a straight face, and I knew it, but continued nonetheless. “I could never fall in love with you, the swoon-worthy swimmer... All muscle and no brain… No, not a chance.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes at me and pursed his lips, as if deciding what was the best way to take revenge. “Like that, is it, Sassenach?”

“Mmm, you were sae repulsive, ye ken.” I tried my best to mimic his accent and burst out laughing.

“Ye’re dead, Sassenach,” he said and came towards me with long strides. I ran. He ran, too, and I hadn’t even reached the next block when he caught up with me, capturing me in his arms.

I was dead. I was sure my heart would stop beating at any moment, overwhelmed by a euphoric feeling that made happiness seem trivial.

“You do know I wanted you from the very beginning,” I whispered to him, my breath brushing against his lips. “Jock.”

“And I, you,” he said, his voice utterly sweet, and swallowed my sigh with his kiss. “Nerd.”

The next day I sprang out of bed listening to my alarm clock, with blurry images of cell membranes still fogging my thoughts. I had dreamed of the exams, again.

I took a deep breath and checked my phone, finding a text from Jamie.

Scot: Show them how it’s done, Sassenach.

Scot: ILY ❤️❤️

He had set his alarm clock just to text me.

Sassenach: ILY TOO! 😘

I couldn’t imagine a better way to start my day.

An hour and a half later, I was at school, sitting at my desk, waiting for the paper. The moments before we were handed the exams were the worst. I had quickly found that looking around while waiting was the worst thing to do, so I focused on my desk instead, feeling the smooth surface beneath my fingertips. I fidgeted with one of my two pens, swirling it around and running my nail over the carved letters, to hear the reassuring scratching sound of their resistance. Not having much more to do, I took deep breaths, waiting.

The room was quiet, but there was a tension hanging low over our heads, filled with dreams and opportunities, stress and hope. It felt so heavy and real, that I was afraid I would accidentally breathe it in and it would close my throat, linger in my trachea, to end up in my lungs and keep the oxygen out. The atmosphere was thick with apprehension, and we could almost capture it between our fingers. The same fingers that minutes later, gripped the pens and started writing.

The moment the paper was in front of me everything around me disappeared. It was me versus myself – my favorite competition. My brain was on the verge of being burned with overthinking, my hand hurt from holding the pen too tight, but I continued to write the answers. I knew them all.

I almost danced in the middle of the street when I met Jamie later, success making me deliriously happy. Jamie had one more week before his English exam, which was his favorite subject, and the only one he wouldn’t need in his application for a business management bachelor’s degree. He wasn’t anxious at all, the bloody Scot, and I couldn’t understand how he did it.

Not anxious about the exams, that is. Because every day I watched him become more and more worried about the Scottish National Championship. It seemed absurd to me that he would care that much about swimming, right in the middle of the exams. Especially after all our work, to make his grades in math descent again. “You do realize that you have to finish the exams first, right? That we have more than two months until you’ll swim at the Nationals?”

“Aye, Sassenach. I do.” His voice was rigid, and it made me feel like a mother scolding her child. “Ye dinna trust me now?” he asked, and I kept silent, guilty, because the thought that he overestimated his preparation for the exams had crossed my mind more than once. Jamie exhaled loudly and took my face in his hands. “Claire,” he said, “I do study and I will get the grades I need. I’m no’ a fool.”

His eyes were so serious and sincere that I couldn’t but nod in agreement. Jamie kissed my forehead and pulled me in for a tight hug. “Tis just…” he started, but trailed off.

“What?” I mumbled, and nuzzled against his neck, breathing him.

“I think it’s more difficult to win the National Championship than it is to write an A+ in math and business management. My personal best needs so much improvement.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed with the statement, but I decided to trust him. “I know you’ll make it,” I said, and kissed the hollow between his clavicles, that little part of him I had declared mine, months ago.

It’s sometimes difficult to realize, incomprehensible almost, how things you’ve been waiting for so long come to pass, like fast breaths taken after a long run. And the air I breathed in, leaving the testing hall for the last time, had the taste of accomplishment.

Math was our last exam. When I saw Jamie waiting for me with his red curls falling over his forehead totally disheveled from all the times he ran his hands through them, my heart stopped. But then I saw the huge smile on his face, and it told me everything I needed to know.

We had more than a month before the results would be announced, but we had done well. We had made it.

Oxford was waiting for us.

I walked towards him, grinning, and I felt like flowing above the shiny floor, my feet inches away from the surface.The moment I came to stand in front of him, Jamie hugged me tight, lifted me up in the air, and asked me if I would be his date at the prom.

“We’re going to the prom?” I asked, uncertain.This was the last thing I expected to hear at that moment.

“Aye! Of course we are! So, will ye be my date, Sassenach?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” I replied, teasing him. “This is really on short notice, and I might have plans for that night.”

Jamie shook his head, lowered me to the ground and bent his head to kiss me. “Cancel yer plans, mo ghraidh. Ye’ll be all mine that night.”

Chapter 40

#thermodynamics #The first law of thermodynamics #high school au #jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction

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milatherese · 3 years

Text

Being sad is part of life.

(the following is just me talking to my future self who is reading stuff I wrote to get it all out of my head so I don’t cry mid-exams... aka it is insanely long, unimportant, and depressing)

On November 29th, I got a notification that read “Father Adrian San Juan’s Birthday tomorrow.” I had already been counting down the days until his birthday and didn’t need the notification to remind me. But when it did remind me, it hurt.

The following day I shared a post on Facebook:

Yesterday, Father Adrian San Juan turned 44 in Heaven. I’ve faced grief before (4 times this year, c'est la vie) but...

Posted by

Mila Reyes

Tuesday, December 1, 2020

but I didn’t share the full story because it was already long (and no one cares lol).

This isn’t the full story but the truth is,

goshdangit,

I miss him.

I miss his loud laugh. I miss his smile. I miss his savage comebacks. I miss his nerdy music moments. I miss his criticism. I miss his tidbits of wisdom. I miss his random rants. I miss his leadership. I miss his guidance. I miss his witty sense of humour.

I know I’m not the only one, but it certainly feels like it. I feel alone in this.

I still remember the day he died.

I had a rough start to the day and had skipped breakfast (because I had planned on just eating a big lunch) and lunch (because I was too hurt to eat [for reasons I won’t mention]). I was still crying in my room when a friend called to ask about some logistics for a relative’s memorial Mass I was coordinating. Around that time, my mom informed me she received a call from an unknown number in Norwalk. Because I was in a sour mood, I didn’t look up the number and simply dismissed it as a telemarketer. A few minutes later, I received the news that Father Adrian was hospitalized and was in critical condition. When I learned that the cause for his hospitalization was his collapse right before Mass, I knew he had died at the scene. (collapse + delay in CPR + critical condition [usually] = death) It was not officially confirmed that he had died until 1-2 hours later when I received another phone call. I was still in my room but was now on a video call with a friend (discussing the music for the Mass). My friend got the call first so I was already mentally prepared for what was to come. I got called right after and that’s when we (my friend and I) decided to hang up and just spread the news.

I called Ken Weber. Father Adrian had invited me to attend his parish’s 50th Anniversary concert and I did. Little did I know that he had plans for me to study under Weber’s tutelage. We had dinner with Ken Weber and Father Adrian after the concert and after Father Adrian shared that I love church music (and hinted that I may be interested in learning how to play the organ), Ken offered to give me my first organ lesson the following day. We continued lessons over Skype when Ken returned to Hawaii and Father Adrian had me provide music (on the organ) for Sunday Masses.

Me: Hi Mr. Weber, I just thought you might wanna know this... Father Adrian passed away not too long ago. Ken: What was that, Mila? Me: Father Adrian died Ken: Oh no, not Father Adrian?! Me: Yes Ken: Oh no, oh no, no I was just there with him at his parish! Oh God no...

I told him what happened and after he learned I had not even told my parents, he had me hang up and share the news. I didn’t.

I called Alexandra Ramos. Or at least I tried. I met her at the same concert. She was the featured soprano. Beautiful voice. I had seen her perform in the musical where I first saw Father Adrian and I was in awe. After we met, we worked together on concerts featuring Father Adrian’s music from the musicals. When that was over, she left the country to discern with an order and we lost contact. When she returned, we discovered we had a lot in common (that we had never talked about) and decided to keep in touch. Unfortunately, her return from that order left her without a personal number and we lost touch again. I left a voice message at the answering machine instead.

I decided it was time to break the news to my family. I opened my door and walked out.

“Guys, Father Adrian died.”

There was no sugarcoating it. It was the truth. I went to each of them. My dad was in his “office”, my mom was in her “office”, and my brother was in the garage. We were all surprised and I was beginning to lose it. After they asked “San Juan? Father Adrian San Juan?” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I burst into tears. My parents went to me and my dad pulled me into a hug - something he has never done before. After a few seconds, I pulled away and said I needed to be alone. I ran to my room and stayed there for as long as I could.

When I was finally alone, I realized that phone call from that unknown number in Norwalk was from the parish school. Father Adrian’s staff was trying to reach my mother, who Father Adrian had asked to put on his emergency contact list. I had forgotten he did that. And that’s when the guilt set in.

I never got to thank him in words for everything, especially his most recent gift when I last saw him. I told myself “I’ll wait until after this semester to properly thank him.” I didn’t know that would be too late.

My family regularly prays at 6pm but this day I could not even utter a single word of prayer. I was in so much emotional pain that I barely made it to our prayer room without nearly falling. I had cried myself into a headache (yes, it’s a thing) and vertigo. All I could think about was Father Adrian. I couldn’t believe it. Apparently I looked so bad (I did not feel well) that my mom considered taking me to the hospital.

The days that followed weren’t any easier. I thought I would be okay after the funeral (which happened a month later) but I was not. I thought I would be okay after my birthday but I was not. I thought maybe, just maybe, if I celebrated his birthday with his sisters I would be okay. I was not. I still am not okay. I poorly estimated the time I would need to grieve. (I based my estimation on my grieving period when Father Suarez had died which lasted ~90 days.)

I have a monthly calendar in my room. I am usually excited to flip the page when the month is over but I still haven’t flipped the calendar to December. It was hard enough flipping to my birth month, and then to his, but to flip to a month of the year where we made some of the most (and best) memories is a big step. I’m already two weeks in and I still haven’t flipped the page.

I have not figured out how to grieve. I typically turn to music but this year music has failed me. When Father Suarez died I listened to praise and worship until I couldn’t – this song played and I lost it while walking to work.

With Father Adrian, I can’t just listen to music. Nor can I just play an instrument or sing and grieve that way because for much of my life, Father Adrian = music. We listened to the same songs, which was pretty much everything. He used all my musical talents in some way (yes, singing, too). I tried music, but it was much too painful to have anything to do with music.

I even stopped singing at Mass. At first it was because I was always crying at Mass because I could see him celebrate the Mass I was attending. But later it was also because whenever I would sing I would hear his voice sing, too, in my head.

I haven’t exactly figured out how to grieve yet. And it also doesn’t help that I keep on pushing people away. I didn’t notice it at first but now that people keep reaching out to me it has become clear that my first instinct when faced with strong emotions is to distance myself.

A friend sent me this:

I knew all of this already; he didn’t need to tell me. But I think I needed to hear it from someone else for my heart to understand it.

There are no time constraints for grief and I shouldn’t put any on it either. It’s all in God’s time with God’s grace. Jesus knows how I feel. And I am not alone.

I have to remind myself it is normal to feel this even though it is something new to me. I am trying to accept that it is a normal feeling.

Today would have been the first day of Simbang Gabi at the Cathedral. I would have been playing violin and he would have been conducting the choir of priests for the fourth time. But, it’s 2020 and that didn’t happen. Instead I “attended” Simbang Gabi on YouTube. And they decided to share two old recordings of what I had hoped would happen.

I have to remind myself that he is easier to talk to now that he is not limited by time and space and that he now knows my heart better than I can express.

I feel ungrateful. I found it difficult to be thankful this thanksgiving after all that has happened this year even though there is physical evidence God has been taking care of me despite everything going on.

I feel angry. I feel like someone unjustly took away something that belonged to me even though I only own my decisions. I wish I had been the one to go Home first.

I feel sad. I can’t talk to him like I used to and he’s no longer just a text away. He always said “See you in the Eucharist!” and I need to remember that.

I feel weak. I often think that the sooner I do the will of God, the sooner I get to be with Him and can leave this world. I know it’s wrong to think this but I can’t help it. His death makes my journey to holiness more urgent. And I feel like I don’t try hard enough.

I guess I don’t really know how I feel right now. Maybe it’s normal to feel all these at once. I hope it is.

This was definitely a wake up call. Memento mori. (here is something I made on my birthday to try to cope)

There’s no such thing as “I’ll do it later” anymore. There’s no “after I do this thing then I’ll do it.” Whatever it is, it has to be now.

That’s what Father Adrian learned when he beat cancer (among many other near-death situations). It sucks that it took losing someone for me to actually learn this but at least I know now. If I am not actively doing God’s work, I might as well have not been born.

Alrighty, now that I’ve poured most of it out, I really need to get to studying.

#milamusings

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toukaisbetterthanyou · 7 years

Text

Capricious (Part 1 of 2)

(AO3)

Authors: Mod A (Tanagers) and Mod K (fangirlingforeverz)

Ratings: T (for now, the next chapter won’t be)

Word count: 4,955 words

Summary: In which, Touka is not content to sit on the sidelines waiting for Ken to visit her. (Post-aogiri AU, where Touka joins up with Ken’s group.)

Notes: You can blame Mod A for us breaking this fic into parts. I wanted to post the entire thing, but she was like, you know what’s better than giving them the entire thing? Breaking it into parts.

He’s leaving again.

Touka can see it -- his back, turned away from her as he speaks to the others. There’s a pain in her chest, and then pressure. Constant pressure, that seems to build and build. What is that pounding sound? Is it her heart? She touches it, only to feel it racing. Her chest tightens, as though a thin wire had been pulled taut around the organ. He speaks softly, first to Banjou, the idiot who had mistaken her for her brother, and fucking Tsukiyama, who he is allowing to come with him as well. Fucking Tsukiyama, of all people! Had he forgotten that he had tried to kill him -- that he was probably still trying to kill him? He’d stab him in the back the first chance that he got.

Why couldn’t she say anything?

Her hands clench and unclench tightly, and she can feel her nails digging into the skin of her palms. God, it’s happening again isn’t it? Someone was about to leave again -- after promising her that they wouldn’t.

She can’t let that happen.

“K-Kaneki,” she forces her mouth to move, even though she’s sure that her voice is trembling pathetically. “I also --” she licks her lips, raising her eyes towards his. “I also want to go with you --”

“Touka-chan,” he cuts in swiftly in that soft, but firm voice of his. She knows what he’s about to say before he even says it. “Aren’t you going to college?”

No.

“Huh?” She asks, bewildered. Suddenly, it’s even more hard to breathe. This had happened before. First, her mother had looked back at she, Ayato, and her father as they ran, promising that she would return shortly after dispatching a dove. Next, she thinks of her father, always smiling so gently at them but hiding a simmering madness behind that soft demeanor. He had promised to return too.

And Ayato -- who had called her weak before taking off in the middle of the night.

Somehow, Kaneki resembled all of them at this moment. Their images all melding into one in front of her.

His eyes are soft and bright, a steady contrast to his gaunt face and lithe frame. He looks as though he were on high alert, like his body had not forgotten, will never forget what he endured in Aogiri. She recognizes the same tightly controlled madness that had also bubbled inside of her father. She had been too young to understand it back then.

Maybe -- he was trying to protect her.

Her father had tried too, in his own way; and he had failed.

Touka wants to reach out and tell him that it was okay. That it wasn’t his fault -- he could be himself again and that she -- they can help him get better. Her words are clogged in her throat, threatening to spill from the maddening worry that he was going to leave if she didn’t do something.

“Touka-chan likes school, right? And you’ve wanted to go to college,” he keeps speaking, as though his words would make this any less painful. “I can’t ask you to come with me.” His eyes are downcast now, like he was hiding.

There’s a thousand different thoughts swirling in her head right now -- different images all merging into one, single moment. She’s being left behind again, she realizes. In an instant, she’s a child again, alone and carrying her sleeping brother as she struggles to hold back her own tears. It’d been cold that night, and somehow she can feel the chill from them seeping into her clothes.

He’s still speaking, but she can’t hear him. Her legs feel restless, ready to spring and run as far away from here as she can possibly get. They twitch.

No.

She can’t listen to this anymore. Her eyes are already starting to blur, her throat starting to tickle, as though she were about to choke on a sob. He’s not even looking at her now, still smiling, like he hadn’t just lied to her and then stabbed her in the heart.

Touka runs.

Days turn into weeks, and then weeks into months until it had already been three months since he had left.

Hinami goes off to him, and she expects him to send the girl back, but he doesn’t, which stings even more. Hinami had been allowed to join him, but not her. She’s boiling mad when Hinami calls her, telling her about what had happened.

“I can’t tell you where I am,” Hinami says, sounding apologetic. “I’m sorry, onee-chan.”

She throws her phone at the wall after that, unable to control her temper. Liar. He was such a fucking liar!

Unlike what he had originally promised, he hadn’t come back to anteiku once. She hadn’t gotten so much as a phone call or a text message. Touka would have known, after all, after her anger at being abandoned had faded after that first month, she had sent him a text message. And then another.

None of them had been answered.

She doesn’t even think he opened them. The thought should solidify her thoughts on how he thought of her. His thoughtless actions should speak volumes, but she knew the pain well enough herself.

He was hiding himself and trying fruitlessly to protect her, even if it meant isolating her into her own corner, taking away the last vestiges of companionship she could have. If it meant easing her burdens, he would do it.

She wished he didn’t try so hard to make decisions for her.

With that in mind, she makes a couple of decisions of her own, having had enough.

“A break?” Yoriko asks her in a concerted manner during lunch. “But this is our final year, you know… Didn’t you want to go to Kamii?” There it was again.

“I did,” Touka answers quietly. “But my dad -- and my brother, they are both insistent that I go overseas. They miss me too much.” Her heart hurts at her own lie. If only. Yoriko, ever the sympathetic and gentle girl, nods in understanding.

“Promise me, we’ll keep in touch?”

Her heart is at her throat. I’m so sorry for lying to you, Yoriko.

“Promise.”

-- The conversation with Yoshimura is much easier and locating Kaneki’s whereabouts, which both Yomo and Yoshimura had been aware of from day one. They just didn’t feel like telling her. Or didn’t want to. That bothers her.

She’s being protected again.

Yomo was far more displeased than Yoshimura but he also knew that if Touka wishes to follow Kaneki into whatever hell he chooses, there was very little they could do to prevent her. “You’re your own person,” he says, “I just hope that you’ll be careful -- but you’ve never been an idiot,” she can hear the, unlike your brother in his words, and she smiles despite herself.

Sometimes, she feels like she can be an even bigger idiot.

“Thank you, Yomo-san.”

She’s annoyed to find that Ken’s den of operations isn’t even all that far from anteiku. It’s about one ward over -- a twenty minute drive from the coffee shop, meaning that he hadn’t even been all that far. She’s incensed. Twenty minutes away and he hadn’t come to visit once? Even after he had promised?

“Then again, he also promised that he’d stay,” she mutters wryly.

His base is located in a large, dilapidated looking building. There were signs on the outside, claiming that trespassers were forbidden and would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. She walks up to the door, turning the handle, only to find it locked. She supposes that made sense. If you were a secret ghoul organization trying to track down another ghoul organization in a city crawling with dove, you would want to keep a low profile.

At least this building looked ruined enough that no one would live there.

Touka readjusts the backpack on her shoulder before squeezing the door handle again. It doesn’t take much effort to break it, and it crumbles in her hand. She pushes the door and it gives way, creaking loudly.

It’s pitch black inside on the first floor, very much resembling an old and dust covered old office. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust, and even then it’s hard to make anything out. She takes out her phone, turning on the flashlight before pointing it around to illuminate some of what is in front of her. There were cobweb covered office cubicles, and ceiling tiles hanging from the ceiling, about to snap and fall. She coughs from the pervasive layer of dust coating almost everything and pinches her nose.

Why was shitty Kaneki even staying in a place like this? Did he seriously have Hinami staying here as well?

She walks further inside and then feels her leg walk through what feels like wire, snapping from the slight force.

What the--

An alarm doesn’t sound -- not does anything come crashing through the ceiling to crush her, or slice through her like she imagined most booby traps doing. At least, that’s what they did in the video games that she sometimes played.

What she doesn’t expect is for a figure, all dressed in black to sneak up behind her. The person grabs her from behind, covering her mouth tightly -- hard enough that she’s sure her skin is going to bruise.

She’s immediately on the defense, it could be some idiot in Kaneki’s group, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t going to defend herself against whatever this was. The person -- was very adamant though, treating her like a threat and dragging her off into some corner, shuffling and dragging.

In her haste, she drops her flashlight, unable to free up herself from the person’s hold to retaliate in someway.

“Who are you?” The person’s voice is rough, but familiar. She can’t immediately place it, though. The person is taller than her, and strong as his other arm comes to wrap around her waist, pinning her in place against him. She doesn’t get a chance to answer him, and he applies more pressure to her mouth. “No screaming -- or I’ll snuff you out where you stand.”

He removes his hand from her lips, and she can hear the crack of a finger.

“I have to pluck anyone who’s a threat.” The man’s voice takes on a darker tone and she knows that she can’t just talk her way out of this. Had Ken gone and picked up a crazy helper?

She shifts in his grip and her backpack falls from her shoulders, it frees her up to release her kagune and shoot the crystal bullets right at them, which has them jump back and block with their own kagune. They were extremely quiet but she hears the slightest gasp before the sound of leather being pulled aside. “T-Touka-chan?”

She bends down to pick up her fallen flashlight, shining it right at him as she tries to calm herself down. This was Kaneki?! What had happened to him?

“Yeah it’s me, you idiot! That fucking hurt!” She couldn’t really fault him for going on the offense to protect his den of operations, knowing who he was going after, but the thought that he was going to hurt her really freaking hurt.

He holds a hand up to cover his eyes from the light’s glare and awkwardly coughs.

“I’m sorry, I - I didn’t know it was you.” An awkward silence falls upon them, not helped by the fact that there were still some bitterness leftover from their goodbye. “What are you doing here?”

How did she even find him? Had Hinami told her?

At his question, her anger returns no matter how much she told herself to remain calm and rational.

“Didn’t think I would find you, huh?” She laughs bitterly. “Seems as much, you practically told everyone where you were except me.”

She wondered if he was doing all this because he was trying to protect her or because he hates her.

“I’m sorry--”

She holds up a hand awkwardly. “Save it. Yoshimura-san told me where you were.” She moves the flashlight away to spare his eyes. “I came to join your group.”

What?

“Um. What?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, exactly as I said. I came to join you guys, withdrew myself from school and everything. Yomo-san told me to not do anything stupid and I’m still planning on going back to school. And to college too, but that can wait.”

He tenses and she doesn’t need the light to shine on him to be able to tell. He was taking this like some kind of personal tragedy. God, why was this guy so depressing and easy to read?

“Now are you gonna get me out of this dusty hellhole?! I think a spider was crawling up my leg.”

To say Ken was unhappy was putting it lightly, not like she gives a fuck. Grudgingly, he brings her further into the building, past some stairs that were concealed, by a tarp that lead downward into the basement of the building.

It was a far cry from how old and disgusting the upper floor of the building looked. Everything seemed new and pristine, as though it had been completely renovated. There was even working electricity. She whistles, “Some base you have here,” she notes, “I’m guessing Shittyama’s money is paying for all of this?”

Even Ken can’t hold back a chuckle at that and she smirks, walking beside him.

He sombers quickly, though. “You can stay here for the night,” he says, “But you should return tomorrow morning. I’m sure your school will let you return--” Her hand balls into a fist and it takes all of her restraint not to smash his face in. She hates it -- someone was always, always trying to make her decisions for her. Always trying to leave her behind. Enough of that.

“What did I just say?” She demands, “I’m joining and that’s that. Did you forget that I beat Tsukiyama? I’m stronger than him -- and you have Banjou -- the one who can’t even use his own damn kagune here with you!” And there was Hinami. That one stung the most. That he would allow Hinami to come, but not her. It couldn’t just be about protection, could it?

His eyes look pained, “Touka-chan--”

“I’ll track you down again,” she warns him, “So there’s no point in trying to get me to go back.”

Ken had fallen silent after their argument, wordlessly leading her into a large common area. Hinami is sitting on one of the couches, reading one of her books, but she freezes the moment that they enter the room. She turns, shocked, “Onee-chan?!”

She grins as the girl launches herself at her, and pulls her into a tight hug. Touka sighs. She had forgotten how much she missed the younger girl. After she had left, her small apartment had felt bigger, and nothing seemed to feel the emptiness that her absence had left behind. She had gotten used to the girl’s presence in the short amount of time that they had lived together. “Onii-chan let you come?”

Ken doesn’t answer her, and instead says, “You can stay in Hinami-chan’s room,” and then he turns on his heel and leaves. Hinami frowns, looking worried, and she knows that she can feel the tension between them.

Luckily, she doesn’t ask about it.

Hinami is all too excited to begin showing her around the base. She shows her to Tsukiyama’s room, and Touka playfully flips him the bird as she passes. He gapes, but she’s already moved on.

“This is just one of the bases that we operate from,” Hinami says, “We’re staying here for the month, and then moving back to one of our others,” she says, though Touka finds her thoughts drifting throughout the tour. They walk by Ken’s room, but it’s closed tightly, which Hinami comments is odd.

“Onii-chan usually reads with the door open around this time,” she says, worried. Touka’s lip curls into a barely restrained snarl. “It’s fine,” she says to the younger girl, “Keep showing me around. Did you say that there was a sparring room too?” She smiles, even though she’s burning inside.

His anger stings -- mostly because she doesn’t understand it. Did he really not want her around that much? Or was there something else going on here?

Would he ever just come right out and tell her what was wrong? She was tired of playing these guessing games with him, just as she was tired of him pushing her away. But she knew that going to his room now and trying to get answers from him would be fruitless.

So in the end, she just goes to the sparring room and shows Hinami some defensive techniques and the two of them play around with the yoga ball until they grow bored. Hinami helps her prepare coffee for the meeting that was supposed to occur and the two of them take back trays of steaming coffee mugs back to the living room where everyone was gathering.

Touka takes her seat right next to Ken as Hinami takes the chair opposite from the two of them.

He doesn’t look as displeased or saddened as he did in the beginning when she had shown up, and it didn’t matter if he was because nothing was going to get her to leave. She didn’t care if her presence upset him, until he tells her, to her face, that he doesn’t want her there, remain she would.

“Can we talk?”

He looks up from the files in front of him, his mug of coffee empty on the table and the room empty of everyone but the two of them. Hinami had already gone to bed and the others went off to wherever it is they go to continue their nonsense. Shuu had returned to his family’s home and promised that he would be over first thing in the morning.

“Sure,” He sounded uneasy. But he puts the file down and gives her his attention.

“Is something wrong?”Just like her to get straight to the point, when it bothered him in the beginning, he now appreciates and misses it when she wasn’t around.

That was only part of his problem with her.

“No,” He says unconvincingly, “Why would there be something wrong?” Her lips tighten, jaw hard from the obvious lie. “Because you’re acting like I kicked your puppy, is having me around so bad?”

He tries to laugh weakly, “No, it’s not I’ve just been tired, that’s all.”

‘I wouldn’t believe that even if you were a good liar, Kaneki. Tell me the truth.” Her eyes narrowed at him. “Do you have some kind of problem with me? Because you seem to have all these other people in your group, but didn’t even think of including me when I was the one that taught you how to fight.”

He exhales, looking utterly drained before the conversation even began. How was he still so bad at confrontations?

“I thought you wanted to go to college, that you wanted to graduate from high school. I couldn’t ask you to abandon all of that to come with me.” “Well I made that decision,” She snaps. “I wanted to come with you, because that’s my decision, I offered to in the first place. You have no right to tell me what I do and don’t want -- so don’t do that in the future.”

She was so tired of everyone treating her like she was made of glass or something. Like she hadn’t endured the harsh realities of the world early on as a child.

He looks even more displeased than when she had shown up and announced her intentions of joining his group, which pisses her off because it only meant that he was hiding the real reason from her.

She was driven to find out exactly what it was.

“Now if the matter is that you just don’t want me around you, then say it to my face. If you don’t want me around, then I’ll leave.”

He grows silent, refusing to answer and she sighs, disappointed. “All of this talk of taking down aogiri, and you’re still the same coward that you always were,” she’s satisfied when he flinches. She smirks, and then leaves him to his own devices, making her way back to Hinami’s room.

She had gotten the final say, but she still didn’t feel as though she had won.

They lie low for the next few days as Ken plans his next move. She learns from Hinami that they were currently looking for information on the ghoul restaurants.

“You mean the gourmets?” She asks as she brushes Hinami’s hair. “Wouldn’t Tsukiyama know about that?” Hinami doesn’t seem to have any more information. It seems as though Ken kept certain things from her, not that she could blame her. The idea of a gentle ghoul like Hinami being apart of this group at all still didn’t sit well with her, but at least Ken kept her away from the more dangerous missions.

Still, she’s beginning to grow somewhat stir crazy.

In her downtime, she takes to training in the sparring room. Ken tended to use it in the mornings to train Banjou, but it was normally empty in the afternoons. Fighting comes easily to her, clearing her head and working off some of the frustration that had building inside of her since she had gotten there. Ken hadn’t spoken much to her since their last conversation had turned out so poorly, and she didn’t have the faintest clue how to fix it.

There’s nothing to fix, she thinks to herself. He has no reason to make decisions for me. And if he can’t tell me that he doesn’t want me around himself, then I’m not going anywhere.

Besides, this team was filled with greenhorns who didn’t seem to know much of the ghoul world’s dark underbelly. Banjou and his two friends had been apart of aogiri, but it was clear that he had been nothing more than a grunt and Tsukiyama had connections and was a good fighter, but she also didn’t trust him. And then there was Hinami -- who could only contribute so much without endangering herself.

And Ken.

He seemed as though he were teetering on the edge of self-destruction, completely unrecognizable from the boy that she knew. Even though he was determined to throw himself into this world, there was still a lot that he didn’t understand.

She couldn’t leave him alone in good conscious.

Touka breathes deeply, allowing the familiar burning sensation in her eyes to spread as she activates her kakugan, and then her kagune. It was smaller than before, even since Ayato had nearly ripped out her kakuhou, but at least she could still summon it. She focuses on spreading it out, as far as it can go before she’s at her limit, and her muscles burn from the effort.

She doesn’t expect Ken to walk into the room.

He freezes when he sees her, and she’s almost surprised that he doesn’t walk back out.

“Your kagune…” he says quietly, more to himself, but she hears him. She sighs, before releasing it, letting it fade out of existence and closing her eyes. “It’s been a pain in the ass since --,” she pauses, catching herself. She didn’t want to mention that in front of him, especially when she remembers how he had looked after he had snatched her from the floor, just as Ayato was about to land the finishing blow.

“--since my last fight,” she says. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

Judging from the way his expression darkens, she can tell that he had already finished her train of thought in his head. That night on that rooftop, she was sure the only thing stopping him from killing Ayato was the fact that he was her little brother and nothing else.

She didn’t even want to think what happened after she passed out.

“Training rooms big enough for both of us, so don’t just run off.” He was bandaging up his knuckles, smiling as he heard her cheeky retort. “I’m not going anywhere,” He answers softly, “I was actually thinking if you wanted to spar.”

Her eyes widen. Spar?

A wry smile crosses her lips. “Like old times?” He nods, “No kagune, just regular fists and kicks.”

She grins outright, bright and blinding -- he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look like that. It made his chest squeeze at the thought that he was the one responsible for that smile on her face. “Fine! You’re on.”

They get on opposite sides, standing in defensive positions. She smirks, “Don’t go easy on me, just because you’ve gotten a little better.”

He smiles, sliding his hoodie off, leaving him in a tank top that showed off his wiry build and newly acquired biceps.

This was not the Kaneki she remembers, she has to tear her eyes away from the rippling muscles and the way he stands with so much confidence.

What the hell had happened in the last 3 months?!

“Ready?” She shakes her head, thinking of a quick strategy to knock him right back on his ass so he can see that she hasn’t gotten rusty at all.

"I'm curious to see how much better you've gotten," she can’t help herself from goading him. She feels hopeful -- it was the first time that he had approached her since she had gotten here. Perhaps he had finally taken the stick out of his ass about her joining? He smiles and sinks into a defensive stance. His eyes are the warmest that she’s seen them be in some time. "I've learned a lot," he warns playfully. She snorts, "And who taught you?"

"You did," he answers softly, "and the rest I learned from books." She rolls her eyes but not unkindly. He was always going on and on about his books so she was glad that he had gotten some help from them. They both begin sparring, matching each other's hits and defenses perfectly. It was just like before, how easily they seemed to fall back into sync with each other. He was right about getting better, but she’s still able to anticipate most of his jabs and kicks. He always tended to favor his right side, kicking and punching using those hands, so it’s not hard to block his attacks. Together, they were like a well oiled machine, knowing what the other was going to do before they even did it.

It was exhilarating. "You finally learned to take the offense," she compliments, genuinely impressed.

"But you're still holding back, don't do that." They pant from exertion. They weren't using their kagune but just physical practice alone was enough to get them breaking out into a sweat. "I-I'm not,” He insists, “we're just sparring, I don't want to hurt you." She frowns, there it was again, his stupid ass excuses, The same excuse she’s gotten before just worded differently. This idiot was really concerned that he was going to hurt her. It annoys her so much, to hear this from shitty Kaneki of all people. "I don't need you treating me so gently. You can get rough, treat this like a real battle. Like I’m really going to kill you, defend your life." Then she pounces on him.

He's caught off guard for a moment, gasping as he feels his back and ass hit the ground as she straddles him and pins his wrists down to the ground. He breathes heavily while she smirks down at him, proud of herself.

That would show him -- "See?" Touka says with a hiss, "That's what you get for underestimating me," she hates it when people do that, but sometimes, she uses it as an advantage. Being underestimated meant there was more chances to win. Lord knows she had used it against her opponents when she was younger and weaker. "Yield," she encourages, squeezing his wrists, but she doesn't expect Ken to suddenly turn the tables, pinning her down by pushing her face first to the floor, and twisting her arm behind her back. She yelps in pain, as Ken leans down, not letting up. He whispers into her ear. "Satisfied?" She blinks -- had his voice always sounded that deep?

She freezes up, feeling his hips pressed against her ass. Somehow this was feeling way too different for a normal training session. "That's a dirty move," she tries to joke. But it definitely doesn't feel like a joke when her thighs feels so shaky and he was completely pressed against her. She’s not prepared for the way that her body reacts to his proximity. She feels hotter, suddenly more light headed as she tries to process what’s happening.

This is silly. She had been this close to him before and had never had this kind of reaction.

“We’re fighting for our lives now, aren’t we?” Ken asks, and then he releases her with a smile. “I’m sure you told me to treat this like that,” he stands, and she doesn’t have the presence of mind to turn the tables around on him. She simply lies on the ground, trying to will her racing heart to calm.

Well, fuck.

She had long since acknowledged that she felt something more than friendship for this self-sacrificial idiot, but knowing that he had such a physical effect on her was unnerving. He didn’t even know what kind of power he had, did he?

“Touka-chan?”

“I-I’m fine,” she says quickly as she stands. She rubs her chest in irritation. “So yeah, I guess you got a little better.”

He laughs.

#touken #kanetou #part one of two #touka kirishima #kirishima touka #fanfic #fanfics

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